


House Arrest

by Snoot37



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Drama & Romance, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-05 03:17:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15855126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snoot37/pseuds/Snoot37
Summary: Ant-Man Scott Lang is not the only one under two year’s of house arrest. After Sharon Carter turns herself in for aiding Steve Rogers and his team in escaping CIA custody, she finds herself facing two years under lock and key as well. Incarcerated in Peggy’s old home that now belongs to Peggy’s son and his family, Sharon tries to keep busy throughout the day by throwing herself into helping her family and being as inconspicuous as possible. But when the family goes away on a weeklong cruise and she must stay behind, Sharon has to face the enormity of her isolation, and is no longer able to keep her thoughts from a certain 100 year old supersoldier who she misses very much. Is he thinking about her?





	1. Chapter 1

House Arrest

I hear the ticking of the clock  
I'm lying here the room's pitch dark  
I wonder where you are tonight  
No answer on the telephone  
And the night goes by so very slow  
Oh I hope that it won't end though  
Alone

'Till now I always got by on my own  
I never really cared until I met you  
And now it chills me to the bone  
How do I get you alone  
How do I get you alone  
“Alone”  
\--Heart

The early morning sunlight filter through the lacy curtains, slowly filling the darkened room with a dim light. Somewhere outside, a couple of birds chirped cautiously as the sun started to peek up over the hills in the distance. It was early, only about 5 AM, at an hour when most people were still asleep, but Sharon Carter had been up for an hour already. Old habits die hard they say. And she did not remember the last time she had gotten a full night’s sleep. Too much on her mind and not enough to do, she supposed. Besides, given her former profession, sleeping through the night was often ill advised in her profession. It left you open for attack from an enemy. She yawned and stretched and slowly sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the somewhat ancient bed. She wanted nothing more than to crawl back under the handmade quilt that covered the bed, but she know if she did, she would be shirking what few responsibilities she had given herself in her present situation. And that was not a road she wanted to travel down. She slowly slid down to the floor, wincing as the old cold wooden planks caught the bottom of her bare feet, but also as her weight caused the ankle bracelet wrapped around her left ankle to dig a little into her skin. She stared down dully at the black box strapped to her leg. She was under two years of house arrest with six months left to go. She supposed she should be grateful. Her great aunt Peggy’s house was a damn sight better than the Raft. Not that she considered herself dangerous enough to be sent to the Rraft, but where the Avengers were concerned, the powers that be that made such decisions seem to be panicky and touchy and prone to sending people to disappear in hidden prisons if they had been involved in any kind of embarrassment involving the mess with the Avengers.

After she had given Steve Rogers and his friends Barnes and Wilson their gear back from CIA lock up, she knew she had two options. She could run for it or turn herself in. Running for it would have meant that she would remain free, but it would also mean looking over her shoulder for the rest of her life. It would mean never seeing her family again, and putting in danger anyone foolish enough to shelter her. She briefly considered going to her former SHIELD academy roommate Bobbi Morse and her husband Lance Hunter, who had gone freelance not long after SHIELD had fallen. But they themselves were living in a legal gray area, and although she knew they would have taken her in, she would have been putting a lot of unnecessary risk on their doorstep. Then doing the mental tally of people she could trust or still counted as friends after the ultimate betrayal of Hydra, she realized that list was depressingly short. Still, for at least a week, she had considered going it alone. But ultimately she decided to take her lumps and hope that Everett Ross was not unreasonable. She had turned herself in right after the king of Wakanda had brought in Zemo and the true nature of everything that had happened regarding the bombing at the UN and the potential release of more Winter Soldiers had come to light. Not that it had really mattered. Steve Rogers and those who had stood beside him were wanted fugitives, never mind that they had actually been right. The Sokovia Accords were now in place and only those who had signed it were considered legitimate Avengers. She had managed to successfully argue that Rogers, and Wilson had not actually been charged at the time they had left the CIA facility, or escaped depending on your verbiage, and that after 72 hours without a lawyer and without charge, they were technically free to go as American citizens being held by an American law enforcement agency. Their property had not been officially confiscated at the time she removed it from the lock up, and there was absolutely no crime in giving someone their property if they were not being held under official charge. The fact that Zemo was captured and the other Winter Soldiers were dead seem to mollify the judges who had decided her fate, and Everett Ross had actually surprised the hell out of her by going to bat for her and arguing for her immediate dismissal of charges. Unfortunately all he had been able to successfully argue was that she should not be locked up in the Raft and the court had decided on house arrest, and of course being fired from her job were fitting punishment for having the audacity to help Captain America.

Of course that had put her family in something of a bind, because following the events in Germany, Sharon didn’t actually have a home to be arrested *in* anymore. Her great aunt Peggy Carter, who of course everyone knew had been significantly close to Steve Rogers during World War II, had risen quickly through the ranks of Allied intelligence throughout most of the 20th century. Even if the common person on the street didn’t know her name, anyone in intelligence usually did. When she had eventually married her coworker Dan and started a family, as a gift Howard Stark had put several of his patents in her name, ensuring that the Carter family would be well provided for in the years that come. Nothing fancy like flying cars, of course. The Starks kept that for themselves. Instead, the Carters held the patents for several industrial processes that were frequently used and the technology licensed. The income had ensured that none of them actually even had to work, although they chose to, and that Peggy had been well provided for in her later years with her deteriorating condition. However, back in the 1950s, Peggy and her husband had built a comfortably sized sprawling two-story house on a nice piece of property where they had raised their two children, Craig and Kathy. Sharon‘s father had been Peggy‘s nephew, and when he was killed in Afghanistan when Sharon was 12, Peggy had insisted that her nephew’s widow and young daughter had moved to the property with them. A small house with its own drive had been built nearby, but it was frequently empty. Although it was officially Sharon‘s mother’s physical address in America, her mother Amanda had quickly taken up overseas missionary work as a means of coping with her own pain and perhaps even running from memories. Sharon had only been 14 when her mother had decided to go to South America to build houses on sugarcane plantations for poor workers. But it was also around this time that Peggy’s husband had died unexpectedly of stroke, and Peggy herself was starting to show early signs of forgetfulness that would later be diagnosed as Alzheimer’s. By this time Peggy’s own children were grown and had started their own families elsewhere, so it was actually something of a relief when young Sharon had moved in with her great aunt in the big house. She had set up in one of the guest rooms, the one she currently occupied and still considered hers. She had lived there off and on until she was 18, staying at the small house with her mother when Amanda was in the country, and the big house with her aunt when she was not. At 18 she had gone off to SHIELD Academy while subsequently taking college courses, but when Peggy had finally been required to live in a nursing home, her son had returned with his family and now lived in the Carter estate.

When Sharon had been sentenced with house arrest, her first phone call had been to her somewhat irritated but mostly understanding cousin. After all, it made sense for her to come there having really nowhere else to go, and it would mean an extra set of hands to help with the children. Her cousin Craig worked long hours at his business, and another adult in the house was always welcome. Joseph was 15 and Isaac was 12, both ages that always required more adult intervention. Sharon was determined not to be a bother to her cousin’s family, for she had always felt something of an interloper. To make up for the inconvenience of her being incarcerated in their house, she had thrown herself into housework, cooking, cleaning, and any number of projects to ensure that the old house was well-maintained, even if she couldn’t really set foot off the porch.

This was her intended routine for the day: get the family off to work and school, and then throw herself into dusting every piece of furniture in the sprawling home. She dragged herself into the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face before heading downstairs to the kitchen. She had never been much of a cook before, but now she had plenty of time on her hands, access to the Food Network and decent cooking paraphernalia, so she might as well put it to good use. She checked the four phones plugged into the wall charger on the counter, one of them was hers although it very rarely dinged with any messages. The ones she did get were usually from her parole officer. They were all charged, so she unplugged them and set them out. She hauled out the four canvas lunch bags and set to work making sandwiches and throwing in a bit of fruit and yogurt for everyone to grab on their way out. She started the coffee pot and filled thermoses with coffee, hazelnut for Craig’s wife Nancy, and black with three sugars for her cousin. She hauled out the small miniature sized Eggo waffles from the freezer and set them toasting in the toaster oven while she poached eggs. She fashioned sandwiches from ingredients using the waffles as pieces of bread and cheese and eggs and breakfast sausage all melted down in the microwave. It was an idea she had gotten after someone had brought her a Mcgriddle from McDonald’s and she had actually liked it. With breakfast and lunch is made, and phones charged, she turned to head upstairs to help wake up the two children and nearly ran smack into her cousin Craig.

“Whoa there, sorry,” he said. 

She caught herself, then smiled at her cousin. “Sorry about that, Craig. Your lunch is on the counter next to your phone, and I wrapped up your breakfast because I know you’re heading out for that meeting. I’m heading up to wake up the boys.”

“Thanks for doing all this,” he said grabbing his coffee and taking long swig.

“No problem,” she shrugged, “I’m going to finish up all the laundry at some point today so you guys can start packing when you get home. Do you think Nancy will want me to pack the boys suitcases so they don’t have to do it later?”

“I’m sure she won’t turn down,” he replied, “but really I don’t want you to think we think of you as the maid or something. Just because you’re stuck here doesn’t mean you have to wait on the family 24 and 7. I mean we appreciate that you’re doing all the stuff, but we don’t want you to feel like you have to.”

“Seriously, I don’t mind,” she said. “If it weren’t for you guys agreeing to let me serve out my sentence here, I will be in a much less pleasant place, I assure you. If washing dirty underwear and helping Isaac with his math homework is what compensates for that, I’ll consider myself lucky.”

Her cousin eyed had her carefully and then said softly “Was it worth it?”

“Yes,” she said simply. “And security clearance revocation keeps me from explaining to you just how thoroughly the answer to that question is yes.”

He shrugged and gathered up his lunch and briefcase, shoving his phone into his pocket. “I know mom would probably agree with you. I’m just going to have to take your word for it I guess. But I will say, if you decide to head out to parts unknown after this is all over, we’re going to miss you. And not just your kick ass paella.” 

Sharon smiled. “Thanks,” she said, “but I honestly don’t know what the future holds for me. All of my skills and relevant job experience are limited to agencies who currently want nothing to do with me, all things considered. I may have to go work at Starbucks.”

Her cousin laughed and patted her on the shoulder before heading out the door for his early morning meeting. She could hear his wife Nancy puttering around in the master bedroom adjoining bath, but she did not hear any movement from the bedroom is occupied by the two children, so she headed up the stairs to try a new tactic waking them up.

She stood in the middle of the hallway for a brief moment trying to suppress a smile before holding up an air horn and blowing it loud enough to ensure that it would jolt the boys out of their bed. She opened the door to Isaacs’s room first, walking in and using her foot to bounce the mattress of the bed up and down jolting him awake.

“Last day of school! Time is a wasting! Time to up and at ‘em! Come on, Mr. Sousa let’s roll, let’s roll!” 

Isaac bellowed in dismay, trying to pull the pillow over his head, but Sharon yanked it off. 

“Aunt Sharon!” he yelled. “What’s wrong with you?” 

“Nothing a day at the beach wouldn’t fix,” she said wryly. “Now get your butt in gear. Ms. Rainette will be here in 45, which means you have 15 to get ready and 15 more to eat.”

“What about the last 15?” he asked. 

“That’s to finish the homework you said you did last night but didn’t,” she retorted. “Now hustle!” 

“Aw man!” the boy grumbled before rolling out of bed and sulking to the bathroom. 

Sharon walked into Joseph’s room and observed her teenage cousin faking sleep. She could tell he was awake by his breathing. She stifled a smile.

“Nice try young man, but greater actors then you have attempted to fool me with fake routines and have failed. You might as well give up the act now. There is no rest for guys who still have one more day of school left.”

Joseph groand and rolled over, as if he honestly thought his cousin with simply walk out the door and leave him to go back to sleep. With a sigh, Sharon brought out her phone that she had slipped into her pocket, and pulled up a video of someone playing Reveille on the bugle for wake up call. Turning the volume up as loud as she could, she held it over the teenager’s head and blasted it at full volume into his ear

“Ah god!! Aunt Sharon, are you nuts?” He yelled. 

“Getting there, dude,” she admitted. “Now let’s make this easy on both of us. Haul your ass out of that bed before I have to take desperate measures. And for the record, your father has giving me free reign to dump ice water on you.”

“You wouldn’t!” the boy said, sitting up.

“Want to bet?” she asked, staring at him evenly.

The kid’s shoulders slumped. “You know, I take it back. You really would.”

“Damn right,” Sharon laughed and ruffled his hair affectionately. “Well, maybe it wouldn’t be my first tactic. But let’s not test that theory. Your breakfast is getting cold.”

With that, she turned and left the room going back downstairs, pretending not to hear her young cousin’s grumblings as he shuffled out of bed and searched for the clothes he had laid out the night before. She found Craig’s wife Nancy in the kitchen drinking her coffee and eating her sandwich while scrolling through the morning news on her phone. Technically speaking, Nancy didn’t actually have to be up this early, for her own real estate business opened at 9 AM. However, the family was leaving for a weeklong cruise the next day as soon as the kids were out of school for the summer, and she had wanted to get into her office early to finish up some work so that she could leave early enough to pick up the kids at school. Normally she took the boys herself, but this was an unusual week for them. It was one of the few things that Sharon could not help with, chauffeur duties. One time Sharon had stepped off the front porch to sign for a package, the alarm had gone off and within only a few minutes, the FBI had been at the house searching everything, much to Joseph’s chagrin for they had found his pornography stash in the closet. That had earned him some serious reprimands and grounding from his parents, although privately Sharon thought maybe they had overreacted a little. The boy was a teenager after all. At any rate, after a thorough search of the house, and her, they had finally relented enough to agree that it had been an accident and had left the family and Sharon somewhat disgruntled and left with the necessity of putting the house back together. She had been extra careful about the sensors ever since then.  
What had really angered her was that she knew very well, as the agents did, that it was completely unnecessary. She knew the house was thoroughly bugged. Those who were watching her knew damn well that she had not tried to leave the house, but it had been an accident, and yet the team had practically torn apart the house anyway, sifting through closets and emptying drawers. She had been under house arrest for a month before she bothered going to look for the bugs that she knew were there. They would have to be. She was one of the last people to see Steve Rogers and his group before they disappeared. That she had brought him his gear back indicated that he had means of contacting her, so she supposed that in the position of those looking for him, putting listening and watching devices on her would have been a smart move. But she had learned since coming to work for the CIA, that even though they were quite efficient at what they did, SHIELD had been far better. This was likely because SHIELD had not been bogged down by the bureaucracy that often hampered the CIA politically. But it just seemed to her that the agents at the CIA would barely have made it past level two or three out of 10 at SHIELD. 

For example, whatever team had bugged her family’s home, they were by the book and efficient, and completely unimaginative at where they hid them. Having hidden quite a few bugs herself in her career, she knew exactly where to look for them. Under the pretense of doing a thorough cleaning of the house, she had easily located the listening devices in the lamps, the button sized cameras in the light fixtures and curtains, and the fake fuse in an unused circuit of the breaker panel meant to cut power to the entire house if necessary. In the 18 months that she had lived there, she had surreptitiously searched the house several times, and she believed she knew where they all were. She knew that her own cell phone that never rang unless it was from one of her family members, and their phones including the children, were all bugged. She had easily found the hidden programs in the registries of all of the phones designed to allow the phone to be tracked and remotely activated and listened through, but she did nothing to remove them since that would indicate to those watching her that she was onto them.

Not that she imagined they had much to listen to. House arrest wasn’t meant to be an exciting experience. And whoever was assigned to listen to the boys was probably good and sick of talk of the video game Fortnite. She almost pitied that poor bastard. But her daily routine had not varied much in the year and a half since she had moved in. She was usually the first one up and made breakfast, got everybody out the door to work and school, spent the morning cleaning the house even if it didn’t need it, and the afternoon working out. When the family came back from their day, she would help her cousins with their homework, help Nancy with dinner, and then either join them in the living room or retreat to her room to watch television or do something crafty. She would then spend the night tossing and turning and waking up several times, before waking up in the morning for good and doing it all over again. On the weekends, the family might go and do something like go to a movie, which they always seemed apologetic about, but she insisted they go, for there was no sense in them being cooped up in the house just because she was. On those days when she had the house to herself, she usually worked out in the basement where she had set up a heavy bag and some workout equipment. She was determined to stay in shape, even if she ended up never using her skills again. She remembered watch guard duty to be extremely boring and mind numbing work. She almost pitied whatever poor sap had pissed off his section head and got in her detail. Some days she even tried to mix it up for whatever erstwhile agent had been assigned to her that day by firing up the video game system dance games and dancing and singing to “Upton Funk” at the top of her lungs. Other days she was feeling bitchy and made them listen to Bee Gees songs all day long. 

Not that she was unprepared for the possibility of having to block the signals on these bugs. She was a spy after all, and was not unprepared for the fact that she was being watched and her communications monitored. Before she had turned herself in to the CIA for discipline, she had hidden a few electronic devices of SHIELD design around the house that she figured she would be staying in while the family had been out. When she had arrived, she had waited a few weeks, then pulled them out from the hidden place in the boxspring of the bed in the room she was occupying where she had hidden them. Before the house was bugged, for she had checked. The one on her wrist appeared to be a simple Apple Watch. But it had been modified with Stark technology and operated on a frequency not known by many in the CIA. It had barely been known in SHIELD. If it were examined, it would appear to be a regular Apple Watch with a few of the operating applications on it. But deep within an application that appeared to be a game, was the ability to communicate to a server using GPS piggyback technology. When monitored, the signal simply looked like a signal tracking GPS satellites, not a communication signal. That same app also had the ability to jam signals coming to and from an area with a roughly 300 foot radius, meaning that she could make all of the bugs in the house go dark. Of course that would be an indication immediately to her watch dogs that she was up to something, so she had no intention of using it unless it was an emergency. 

There was also a chat feature hooked to the several burner numbers that she had used in the past in case anyone needed to contact her. There would be no messages going to the cell phone that she used that everyone knew about, but in the event that any of her former SHIELD associate or Steve Rogers needed to contact her, it would go to the hidden place in the special app on the watch. There had been no messages to any of her numbers. Logically, she knew it was because none of the people she wanted to talk to should risk having their locations determined from sending messages. Still, it was difficult not to feel a little forgotten.

Not that she had had no word from Steve Rogers. Following her sentencing, about three months into her house arrest, he had called during the day when the family was out. He had told her that he knew the phone was bugged and they were being listened to, which was why he had to keep the conversation short, but to tell her that he was in honestly glad that she was safe and not on the Raft, and that he was still very grateful for her help and hoped she wasn’t too mad at him. She had told him that she was not mad at him, and she also was grateful for house arrest instead of regular incarceration, but that she was certain she was going to die of boredom with nothing to do. He had laughed and told her to stay out of trouble, and that he hoped he would see her again someday. He told her that he wouldn’t tell her where he was going, but to only say that he and the others were safe for the time being. They had said their goodbyes and ended the call, and that had been the last she had heard from him aside from random sightings people reported on the Internet of seeing him and the others, now being called the Shadow Avengers, all over the planet. If even half of the reports were true, it seemed that Rogers and his compatriots had gone freelance against criminals, bringing down terrorist cells and putting a chink in the human trafficking chain. He had not indicated in the phone call that he intended to ask her to join them at any point, fort with mean returning to a life on the other end of the law, but she did wish she could have joined them. What they were doing was her area of expertise. And if the CIA or other intelligence agencies thought she was on trustworthy simply forgiving a man his property back, then fuck them. 

But he had not asked, and she hadn’t expected him too. And she had not heard from him since. Within an hour of the phone call, the house was swarming with agents and she was being put through the 3rd° along with a lie detector test, the agents refusing to believe that she did not know where Captain America was, or that there had not been some coded message in his phone call. She had been threatened with an extra six months on her sentence, or being removed from the house and put in a prison cell. This had all happened in front of her family including the boys. It had infuriated her but she never lost her cool. Joseph told her later that he was highly impressed at her never blinking under the grilling the agents gave her, because he personally wanted to punch each one of them. She had laughed and ruffled his hair and advised against attacking a federal agent. It never ended well she assured him. Then she had smiled softly and told him he was most definitely Peggy‘s grandson.  
Her cousin Craig had been less amused. Although he wanted to help his cousin, he was not on board with agents randomly storming his house and sifting through their closets simply because she got a phone call. Sharon had offered to move to the small house on the property that she and her mother had shared when they still lived here, and Peggy and Uncle Dan had occupied the big house. Craig head sighed and shook his head, saying no, that he didn’t want her by herself in the house less than a quarter of the size of the one she was currently stuck in. “But I have to tell you Sharon,” he had said, “it does really suck, not just for you but for us. It seems like every time that man has come into our family’s life, he leaves behind a whole lot of heartache. First mom, then you. Twice.”

“Craig,” she had countered evenly, “your mother would have been the first one to agree that he had no choice but to crash the plane into the Arctic. You know very well that millions of lives in New York City would have been vaporized if he hadn’t. It was his choice and she supported him, no matter how much it hurt her. And I don’t think she regretted the life she had as a result, which included your father and all of you guys. As for me, well, I’ve vowed never to regret my decisions by him. I took a demotion from field agent to watch his backside for two years under cover, and bringing down SHIELD was the right thing to do. Peggy herself would have done it if she had known it was infested with Hydra. Then giving up my freedom and my job at the CIA to help him go after Zemo? I don’t regret that one bit. The other Winter Soldiers are dead, and that maniac is behind bars. On top of all that, he stopped T’Challa from committing cold blooded murder while wearing the mantle of Black Panther, which would have required him to give up the throne of Wakanda. Even my old boss Everett Ross agreed that Rogers was right this time, hell even Tony Stark agreed it.”

“Yeah, but where is he now?” asked Craig. “You get to take the fall, and he gets to run off...”

“Nobody took a fall, Craig,” she had cut him off. “And I don’t want you thinking that. He was extremely grateful when I helped him out, you should have seen the look on his face when he realized what I had done, like he couldn’t believe anyone would care enough to do it. He knew what it meant, the loss of my job and now I was a fugitive. For the record, he said thank you. And he didn’t just run off. If even half the rumors are true, he’s taking down a lot of seriously bad guys, with or without permission. Maybe the Avengers do need some oversight, SHIELD had provided that. But if they’re going to go off on their own, let us be grateful that they’re going after international criminals and not trying to set themselves up as the rulers of the world or something.”

“Craig had sighed and shook his head, more sad than angry at the turn of events facing his family. “That may be so, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it. I know he’s a good man, mom would not have loved him otherwise. And you aren’t loyal to fools. I just hate seeing you like this, locked up and your skills just being put up on the shelf. Maybe none of us followed mom into the life, but I’m not ignorant of what it takes to live it. It’s all or nothing with being a SHIELD agent. You should have had a lot more years in the profession.”

She had clapped her cousin on the shoulder and smiled, telling him not to worry, she was far from done yet. And hey, she had joked, if the CIA got really desperate and needed competent people, they wouldn’t care about her background, they would find some way to use her. Even as an analyst. Nancy had chimed in that she had thought Sharon was very brave for her decision, and that they had probably best leave it at that. After that conversation, they had mutually agreed not to discuss the specifics of her decisions to help Steve Rogers, but the conversation had touched a nerve hidden in the darkest recesses of her mind. Had he forgotten about her? Had she simply been a convenient to tool to be utilized and then forgotten? She knew he wasn’t that kind of man, but some days, when she was having an exceptionally lonely day, it was difficult not to let that little voice whisper in her ear that she didn’t mean nearly as much to Steve Rogers and she hated to admit that he meant to her. She was a consummate professional about everything and her life, and that was especially true of her work. 

In taking on the job for Nick Fury to watch Steve’s backside, she had memorized practically every scrap of written knowledge that existed on him, and had dredged up every word her aunt had ever spoken to her about him. She studied him so thoroughly that she could pick out his voice even when he tried to disguise it, knew the cadence of his steps in the hallway outside her apartment door when she had lived next-door to him, could pick him out in a crowd even when he tried to disguise himself. This was typical of guard duty on the subject, but she had not expected to grow to like and appreciate the man himself. Sure, he was Captain America, what was there not to appreciate? But she knew he was so much more, and over time she had gotten to see the man that her aunt had appreciated. After her funeral, when they had spent the afternoon together just talking, she had grown to know him more, and found herself wishing he knew her better, not just the wayward SHIELD agent who had been spying on him who turned out to be the niece of his lost love, but Sharon herself. She found herself wondering, for example, if he knew that her favorite food is sushi? She knew his favorite was bacon cheeseburger. Those were just little things that people knew about each other when they were friends. Maybe even more.

But maybe that was stretching things a bit. She had no idea how he felt about her. Despite the kiss under the bridge. 

“Well, I guess I should get going,” said Nancy, breaking Sharon out of her reverie. Sharon snapped herself back to reality and gave her cousin’s wife a quick hug before handing her the lunch and coffee mug. Nancy called upstairs to say goodbye to her sons who yelled back their goodbyes, before she headed out the door. The boys came stomping down the stairs not much after, slouching in their chairs to gobble their breakfast sandwiches and finish their homework. Sharon skimmed the news on her phone for the latest list of daily tragedies and triumphs, while surreptitiously looking for some sign or indication of where Steve Rogers and the Shadow Avengers might be. To most people, skimming over a story about 15 young girls being rescued from a trafficking ring in Cambodia might garner little attention, but her trained eye that had been accustomed to looking between the lines of news stories quickly picked out that the girls had been rescued by forces other than the local police using tactics familiar to the American military of 80 years ago. Since she knew that Tony Stark’s group had not gone out recently, she made a mental note to count Cambodia as a potential location for the freelance Avengers. It was in keeping with another new story she had read a few days ago that had happened in Indonesia. And so, with mostly just hunches to go on, she figured Steve and his crew were probably in southeast Asia at the moment.

“Aunt Sharon, I’m done,” said Isaac with a grin, having shoved most of his breakfast sandwich in his mouth. Sharon smiled at her cousin. Isaac was a good-natured child who was rarely in a bad mood. It could be storming outside for three days straight and he would find something to be happy about. Natural optimism was his key feature. Unlike his slightly moodier older brother. Joseph was a pensive teenager who rarely cracked jokes, though he found humor in many things. But Joseph was more likely to study thing and try to figure out what he was not being told. He was a deep thinker, and resembled his grandfather Danielle Susa quite strongly, not just an appearance but also in personality. He hadn’t spoken word since he sat at the table, for example, but now he looked over at Sharon and said, “Are you OK? You seemed kind of off this morning.”

It was the kind of question that tended to throw Sharon for a loop, for she prided herself in not giving away her true feelings if she was having a bad day. She put on a brave face and tried to smile for the family, but it rarely fooled Joseph. Few people liked playing poker with her, Joseph usually could tell when she was bluffing. Not for the first time, she wondered if her young cousin wouldn’t make decent SHIELD agent, if SHIELD ever manage to reform. On the other hand, she suspected he didn’t have much in him that would allow him to do the active part of the job of an agent, but he would make a damn fine analyst. If his father wouldn’t be dead set against it. Craig had no love for the profession that had stolen away much of his mother’s attention during his life, and had his cousin currently incarcerated in his house. He would be less enthused to hear that his son might follow them into the life as well. But Peggy’s husband Daniel had made a damn fine agent and later director, himself, despite his disabilities incurred from the war. One didn’t always have to be an action hero to be an effective agent.

“Yeah, well, house arrest for 18 months will do that to you,” she said with a grin to take the sting out of the truth of her words. Joseph got the hint and went back to his food and homework. Suddenly, came the sound of honking from the driveway. Sharon looked out the window and grimaced.

“There’s Rainette. Come on guys, let’s get a move on!” Joseph and Isaac jumped up and grabbed their backpacks and lunch bags. She hustled them out the front door, giving them quick hugs and sending them down the porch stairs, waving at the mother of Joseph‘s friend Mark who had agreed to give them a ride in the morning. Once the car had driven off, she turned and close the front door and went back into the kitchen to clean up the dishes. She sat for a bit by herself at the table scrolling through the news, before sighing and getting up. Although the house didn’t really need to be cleaned, as she cleaned it almost every day just to keep busy, she had opted to go ahead and clean it anyway, telling herself that it would help the preparations for the family plans to leave the next day for a cruise as soon as school were out for the summer break. Truth be told, she wasn’t looking forward to an entire week in the house by herself with them want to talk to. After 18 months of really only seeing her family on a daily basis, the occasional visitor or delivery person, and those who gave the children rides to and from school, spending an entire week without anybody there at all was akin to solitary confinement. It wasn’t going to be fun. She plugged her phone into the stereo system and fired up some jumpy music to get her in the mood to start housecleaning. After somewhat eclectic mix of “Walking on sunshine,” “You should be dancing,” and “It’s raining men,” she got the already spotless house even more spotless and fixed herself a sandwich for lunch, before hauling down the laundry to make sure everybody had clean clothes to choose from when packing.

In the afternoon she busied at herself by writing checklists for the boys for them to remember to pack certain things such as their gaming systems and their summer reading books while she pack their suitcases for them. Craig and Nancy could handle their own packing, but she left checklists for them anyway. In the afternoon, she spent several hours down in the basement in the training center she had set up with secondhand equipment punching on the heavy bag, running on the treadmill, and working out with weights. She had even commandeered Joseph’s airsoft gun to keep up what target practice skills she could, since she was obviously not allowed to have a fire arm in the house. The inability to have a weapon nearby made her extremely nervous. She had lived the sort of life that had involved pissing off quite a few very powerful criminals, and it would not take much for them to realize that she was basically stuck in the house with no protection. They airsoft gun and BB guns were better than nothing if one wanted to practice target shooting, but she had fashioned a few makeshift weapons out of what items she could fine around the house, which included a set of nunchucks made from metal pipes and a length of bike chain, and some escrima sticks made from leftover bits of PVC pipe that she had found in the basement, though she was not nearly as skilled in them as her friend Bobbi.

After several hours of running on the treadmill and pounding the heavy bag to try to ignore the silence surrounding her and the week of silence that was coming, she finally went back upstairs to shower and start pulling together items for supper. Normally Nancy cooked supper, but since this was the last day of school, there were several things that needed to be taken care of and she would be picking up the children and going last minute vacation shopping, which meant they would not be coming in at their normal time. She threw together a white sauce chicken Alfredo, knowing they would never eat it all but would ensure that she had leftovers for a couple of days. When it was just her in the house, she normally subsisted on sandwiches, not really seeing the point of cooking for just one person. Around 5 PM the family came bustling in with stories of last day of school and work before leaving for vacation. Sharon was able to throw herself into helping them with preparations and helping Nancy clean up the kitchen, enough to distract her from her situation. Of the many things she was going to miss this week, she was going to miss the distraction that her relatives brought from the fact that she was essentially imprisoned in the house. That evening was spent playing video games with her young cousins, and helping them pack their few remaining items. The family piled their suitcases by the door, so they would be ready to run out when the airport shuttle arrived the next morning. Everyone went to bed early, excited about the next day, including Sharon, although she stayed awake staring at her ceiling until one in the morning, her mind and emotions jumble of confusion.

The next morning was equally chaotic. The adults ran around the house trying to locate last minute items that had been forgotten in the packing the night before. Sharon helped Isaac tear apart his room looking for the travel charger for his Nintendo 3DS. Joseph was missing one of his favorite shoes that he insisted that he had to bring with him on the trip. Nancy couldn’t find her phone charger and ended up borrowing Sharon‘s. Craig fielded a last-minute phone call from the office helping a coworker locate a file for a client that Craig insisted had been left on his desk but the coworker insisted could not be found. The honking from the driveway indicating that the airport shuttle had arrived through everything else into a frenzy of activity, and Sharon did the best she could to help her family get out the house without actually getting off of the porch. The driver helped them load their luggage into the van, and with many last-minute hugs, enthusiastic waving and shouts of goodbye, Sharon smiled and waved as her family departed for their weeklong vacation. When they had finally gone, she close the door behind them and leaned against it, suddenly aware of how truly quiet the house was without them.

At first, the silence wasn’t all that different than what she dealt with on a daily basis. Although the house was spotless and did not need to be clean, she put on some music again as she had done the day before and ran the dust mop over the floors. There was no laundry to do, and no breakfast dishes to clean up, and her usual methods of distracting herself during the day were going to dry up quickly. Without the need to tend to the needs of the family, she hauled out the Tupperware box of various crafty items that her cousin Kathy, Craig’s sister who lived three hours away, had brought her over the months that she had been incarcerated. Kathy was quite crafty herself, and insisted that Sharon needed to engage in a creative passion in order to keep herself occupied. Kathy practically lived in Hobby Lobby, and it seemed like every other month she was announcing to the family about some new project she had taken up. Last year it was hooked rugs, then it was crochet and knitting, and then as of late it was adult coloring books. Inside the large Tupperware was a stack of adult coloring books and a huge box of pencils and gel pens. There was also a “how to knit” kit and “how to crochet” kit with a couple of rolls of yarn. Recently, Kathy had brought her a calligraphy set, saying something about the use of the fountain pen and cursive writing being important to engage the brain. Sharon sighed and took out the calligraphy set. If nothing else it would give her something to do. Who knows, since she had no prospect of employment waiting for her when this was all over, if she got really desperate, she could always hand write wedding invitations or something. Then she shook her head violently. She doubted she would ever be that desperate for something to do. But she sat at the kitchen table anyway learning to work the pen and following the practice workbook until her hands cramped. Then she decided to try knitting a hat. That lasted an hour. Finally, she decided her best course of action was to go down to the basement and work herself into an exhausted sweat. That seem to be the only thing that kept her sane in the long term.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is so short! Hopefully the next one will be longer.

Right about the third day of being on her own in the house for a week, Sharon was beginning to understand why solitary confinement was such an effective means of prisoner control. There was literally nothing left to clean, no laundry to do, and she couldn’t run errands. Everything has been straightened, everything had been put in its place, and the house now looked like someone with a good dose of obsessive compulsive disorder lived in it instead of a family of two teenage boys and three adults, of which only Sharon herself could be called orderly. Her cousin Kathy had called twice and had stopped by once, but she lived far enough away to where Sharon knew that was the only visit she was going to get. She had downloaded books from the library to the old Kindle that Nancy had given her, but had not been able to read more than a couple of paragraphs. She was in the middle of a crochet project that she had no motivation to pick up and finish. The calligraphy stuff had been packed up back into the box it had come in and set aside. She had binge watched Game of Thrones and the Big Bang Theory on Netflix, and had even illegally streamed some movies that were still in the theater to their smart TV. After all, what was one more felony? She had punched the heavy bag so often and run on the treadmill so long that her knuckles and the bottom of her feet were sore. She had taken to pacing the hallway like a caged lion, recognizing the signs of psychological distress, and that worried her. She honestly thought she would be able to handle being alone for a week without the family without too much trouble. After all, it was not like this was the most terrible situation in which she had ever found herself. The time she had been required to bust out of a ramshackle prison in the middle of the Belizean rainforest came to mind. That had been when her team had been about to bust up a joint human trafficking and drug running ring and had been sold out by an informant. She had been in that dank cell for two weeks with nothing but a mud floor to sleep on before finally over powering a guard, and fighting her way out. Then she had walked 70 miles straight through the jungle to the nearest settlement and managed to get herself smuggled on a truck to the nearest United States outpost. Surely pacing the hallways of a residential building in the mainland of the United States could not possibly compare to that? There was no reason for her to feel distressed like this.

But every other situation in which she had found herself had required her to use her wits and skills, and keep her mind sharp. Here she was barely keeping her edge, and that’s what bothered her the most. She was not useful to anyone, in fact she rather saw herself as a burden on her family, despite their insistence that they were glad she was there, and an embarrassment to her colleagues. And what of Steve Rogers? Had he forgotten her? Did it matter if he did? It did, she realized.  
She finally stopped pacing the hallway and climbed the stairs to the guest bedroom that she was using as room. She flopped on her bed and stared up at the ceiling. Unbidden, she felt tears sting her eyelids. She angrily wiped them away, but that only made them come faster. Now she could add irritation with herself for crying like a baby to the jumble of emotions ricocheting around her head. The logical part of her mind that analyzed human behavior so well recognized that it was perfectly normal to feel out of sorts and lonely given her situation, and she knew that without her family providing the much needed distraction to keep her from focusing too much on her incarceration, that the full measure of what she was facing was no longer hidden behind the background noise of their presence. Everything she had ever worked for was gone, literally overnight. Twice. She had thrown every fiber of her being into becoming the best SHIELD agent that she could. Then she had been forced to help bring SHIELD down when it became known that Hydra was a part of it from the beginning. Her entire world had collapsed, everything that she had ever worked for. People she had thought of his colleagues and friends had turned out to be Hydra. People she had thought of his colleagues and friends that she knew were not Hydra had either been killed or scattered to the winds. She knew that Phil Coulson, miraculously saved from his encounter with Loki aboard the helicarrier when the Avengers had formed, had reformed SHIELD, but had not called her. She had joined the CIA, the one place she felt that her skills that could be utilized, only to have to battle suspicion from less than competent agents who would not have made it past level two or three in the SHIELD ranking system. With the media portraying SHIELD as a terrorist organization, it had been difficult to make them understand that maybe only 1/4 of the personnel of SHIELD had ever been Hydra, and that the rest had been dedicated men and women who were determined to protect the United States and the world from heinous threats like Hydra and so many others. You’d think they’d have never considered that fact, the way her CIA colleagues had made snide comments that she was supposed to overhear about traitor SHIELD agents and SHIELD personnel being so incompetent that they couldn’t see a terrorist organization hiding in their ranks for over 70 years. Sharon had ignored them.

It had taken some time to dig herself a place in the CIA, and Everett Ross had done her a favor by taking her on his team in Berlin, subsequently getting her out of the United States and away from the suspicious eyes of those at CIA headquarters, and putting her skills to good use. Then her aunt died, and she had come across Steve Rogers again. And within a matter of 72 hours, her world had once again collapsed when she had thrown everything away to help him. She did not want to admit how much she had come to care for him during her stint as his protector and watch dog for SHIELD. To have had SHIELD collapse the way it did and the two of them part the way they had, with his frosty irritation at her lingering for two years before coming across each other at Peggy’s funeral, had been a bit difficult for her to overcome. She had not relished the idea that he was mad at her, especially for doing her job. Then after Peggy’s funeral they had made peace, and even come to understand, maybe even like each other a little bit. Actually it was a lot. He was the one who had kissed her, had made the first move, which she had not rejected. And there wasn’t a day that went by that she didn’t reply that moment in her head over and over. But now, once again, it look like another two years at least would pass before she ever saw him or heard from him, if she ever would again. Everything she had been through, and she likely would never see him again. And then, once her house arrest was over, then what? Her talents were not easily applied to just any profession. Oh sure, she could pretty much work anywhere with her degree is in psychology and law-enforcement experience. She supposed she could always become a night security guard somewhere, or a private investigator. But she knew she would never be satisfied in whatever role she took. Maybe she should try to contact Phil Coulson and see if he had a place for her in the newly formed SHIELD? He had not voluntarily called her, but maybe he thought she would not be interested? Of all people on the planet, she knew that Phil Coulson want understand why she had done what she had done. Mostly because she knew damn well he would have done the same himself. And he knew her skills. He would know that she would be helpful in the SHIELD he was trying to form. Yes, that’s what she would do. She would see if Phil would take her. And if he wouldn’t, then there was always working as a freelance analyst. Quite a few former active field agents did that upon retiring or leaving the agency. That she had left involuntarily really shouldn’t be an issue if she was able to assist in ways that others couldn’t. Yes, that’s what she would do.

Her mind somewhat made up about the future, she felt the stinging behind her eyelid slowly start to subside. She was just going to have to be content with whatever she could carve out for herself after all this was over. And, as she had done after SHIELD had fallen, she was going to have to accept that Steve Rogers was not going to be a part of it.

She dozed off a bit, unusual for her in the middle of the afternoon, then pulled herself out of bed. She didn’t really need to shower because she had not worked out much that day, being somewhat unmotivated. But she knew she would feel better if she did, so she took a short shower, and then went downstairs to find something to eat. Again, she didn’t really need to cook, but she knew it would make her feel better and there was something to be said for having leftovers rather than just sandwiches to eat for the next few days. She scrambled through the pantry and was delighted to find there was enough ingredients to make a lasagna. It would be a lot for one person to eat, and she suspected she would be good and sick of lasagna after about three days, but at the moment sounded heavenly. She dug out the cheese and sauce and Nancy’s large baking pan and started layering noodles and sauce and a can of mushrooms that she had found in the pantry. She layered four different kinds of cheeses from the refrigerator into the casserole, knowing that the cheese would need to be eaten anyway, and put the entire concoction in the oven to bake.

When it was ready, she sliced herself a generous piece and brought it to the couch in the living room to flip through channels for anything interesting to watch. She settled on some show posing as a documentary attempting to explain how aliens were responsible for every major human achievement in history, followed by a show where blacksmiths competed against each other to forge the best bladed weapon out of bits of old road sign, which she actually found fairly interesting. She turned off the TV and cleaned up the kitchen, and checked the clock. It was only 9:30. At no point in her life had this ever been an acceptable bedtime, not even as a kid. But admitting that she literally had nothing else to do that sounded appealing, she resigned herself to the fact that it was going to be early bedtime for her. Not that she ever slept through the night. She had battled insomnia most of her life, worse since she had been locked up in the house. She often woke up several times throughout the night, flipping through the small television set channels in her bedroom until she found something boring enough to put her to sleep, sometimes working on her crochet or knitting project until she fell asleep, waking up with the pointy bits of the needles and hooks digging into her butt. At one point she had even taken into watching old reruns of the Honeymooners. She didn’t anticipate that this evening would be much different. After checking all of the doors and windows, as was as her custom, and arming the alarm, knowing full well that it would not be enough to stop an actually trained professional from getting into the house if they wanted to get to her, she tromped upstairs and collapsed into bed, later remarking with some surprise at how easily she had fallen asleep.

She dozed in and out of sleep and semi-sleep. At various points throughout the night, she would find herself staring at the lacy curtains in her window, only to realize she was dreaming when she suddenly found herself back in either her office at SHIELD or her office at the CIA facility in Berlin. Her mind flashed with real and imagined images of the Avengers, specifically Steve, running at each other like to ancient armies across a battlefield, and visions of Steve being thrown back against a plane or a wall. She felt herself calling out his name, suddenly finding herself surrounded by thick fog, calling for him. She had had this dream before, and he never answered. But for some reason, this time he did.

*Sharon. Sharon.*

“Steve? Where are you? I can’t see you.”

*I’m right here* came his whispered voice. *Right here next to you.*

She turned around frantically in the dim fog. “I can’t see you.”

She heard him chuckle. *That’s because you need to open your eyes first.*

Suddenly she jerked awake, realizing she had been dreaming. But the sound of a low voice still echoed in her darkened bedroom. And she suddenly became aware of breathing not her own, and the warmth of a presence less than 3 feet away from her left side. Someone was here in the room with her, someone who had gotten past the alarms and locked doors, and the audio and visual bugs around the house planted by the CIA keep an eye on her. Reflexively, she swung her fist out in the direction of the shadow near her bed, and sensed rather then saw him jump back. A strong, firm, but not hurting grip wrapped itself around her wrist, stilling her.   
“Hey there, easy!” came the low voice.

Sharon still wasn’t completely awake yet, reacting on instinct, and quickly flipped herself over the grip on her left wrist and came to her feet beside the individual who had a hold on her. But before she could swing with her right hand, his other hand grabbed that wrist and pushed her up easily against the wall with a strength she now realized it was not that of a normal human. His hips pushed against hers pinning her to the wall, but keeping his face well out of reach of any attempt at a headbutt. 

“Whoa whoa whoa, hold up there! Sharon it’s me, it’s Steve. Steve Rogers. Cool it. It’s just me!”

Finally she snapped awake, recognizing him. But she still couldn’t believe it. She took a step back and he released her, stepping back, and then reached over to turn on the lamp on the bedside table. A dim but clear light flooded the room, and her eyes fell on his familiar face, a face she had not seen in nearly 2 years. Steve Rogers. Steve Rogers stood in the middle of her bedroom.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is so long! I need to learn to space out my work better. This is ending up being longer than I thought. At least one more chapter on the way after this. Enjoy!

In hindsight, Steve supposed there was not a lot of wisdom and sneaking into a bugged, alarmed, and locked house in the middle of the night to wake up a woman who was formerly a level seven SHIELD agent, followed by a stint as a mid-level CIA agent. Rumor had it that she was second only to Natasha Romanoff in fighting ability, and could easily snap anyone’s neck who came up on her suddenly. However, he had been weighing his options, and this seemed like the less dangerous approach. She was not expecting him, in fact what she was probably expecting, if anyone at all, was someone who meant her serious harm to show up unexpected at the Carter house. He couldn’t show up in broad daylight, because even though Natasha promised him that she could bring down their surveillance system keeping an eye on Sharon, it wouldn’t do to be spotted walking up to the front door in the middle of the day by anyone who might be nearby who could then call the authorities and report Captain America lose in the neighborhood. The house was fairly isolated from its nearest neighbors, but it was still in a residential area. Strolling up to the front or back door after dark wasn’t really advisable either. Sharon was the kind of person who probably answered the door with her handgun tucked in the other hand. On top of all that, if she didn’t kick his ass for just walking into the house, she would probably kick it for putting himself in danger, or her for discovery, by the agents who were undoubtedly listening and watching her every move, and worries about bringing a team of CIA agents down on both of their heads would probably be all it took to have her push him back out the door. On top of all that, he wasn’t really sure how she felt about him at the moment, and concerns about her yelling at him for getting her into this situation and not communicating with her for over a year led him to be somewhat cautious in how he should approach. He decided that sneaking in at midnight and hoping she was still too sleepy and groggy to take his head off would be the best course of action. Now, as he stood in the middle of her room, he wasn’t so sure he had made the wisest choice.

In fact, he was probably the fool of the world for coming here at all. He was taking a great deal of risk to himself and risking more legal trouble being brought down on her just by setting foot on the mainland of the United States. But, he had to admit, this was a situation that he simply could no longer pretend did not exist. He had gone an entire year worrying about her and where she was, and once he found out her situation and where, the urge to see her had been overwhelming for weeks.  
After breaking out his friends from the high-security prison in the middle of the North Atlantic known as the Raft, they had retreated to a safe house that Natasha knew of in Amsterdam for a few weeks to recuperate. Wanda had been especially traumatized, having never really gotten over the loss of her twin brother less than a year earlier and the destruction of her home in Sokovia, nor the events with Crossbones that had led to the Sokovian Accords and the bombing of the UN. To have it all end up with her in a maximum-security cell, having been ripped away from Vision whom everyone knew she had grown close to, had caused her a great deal of emotional upset. Spending several weeks in an isolated house in another country not being hunted had done wonders for her recovery, though she was still somber enough to worry Steve. And of course Clint Barton had wanted to get back to his family, and Scott Lang had wanted to return to his. Steve certainly couldn’t blame the two men for wanting to see their children. He had only made a halfhearted attempt to try to talk them into staying, but in the end had sent them off with his blessing and hoped that they would not suffer too much for their choice to help him, especially their families. Not long after that, Natasha Romanoff had showed up herself, having broken ranks with Tony and violated this Sokovian Accords to help them. With himself, the two women and Sam Wilson left of his team, with Bucky having retired to Wakanda for treatment and removal of His programming, Steve’s new Shadow Avengers team took some time to recuperate and get their bearings. T’Challa had offered them safe harbor in Wakanda, which they took him up on for a couple of months, but the new king had his own troubles at home, and was still reeling from the terrible clash with his late cousin. There had been many who had been left in emotional disarray with the events surrounding Killmonger, and the king and his sister and mother had a lot of mending of their country to do. Steve knew that the presence of outsiders in the isolationist country would only cause the king more trouble, despite his protests that the lot of them were more than welcome in his palace.

In the end, they had said their goodbyes, left Bucky to Princess Shuri’s ministrations, and had left Wakanda with a bag load of her newest toys that she assured them would help them on their way and bring Wakandan help if they ever needed it. In the year that followed, they had moved around various safe houses, doing what they could to advance the ideals that Steve had believed SHIELD to stand for, the SHIELD that Peggy and Howard had formed, not the infected shield that Zola had grown Hydra within. They had disrupted many terrorist cells, human trafficking rings, drug rings, and all-around worldwide villainy in that year. Natasha was quite good at gathering information needed to conduct these missions, but more than once she had bemoaned the fact that Sharon was not with them. Despite her own expertise, Nat had insisted that her former SHIELD dorm roommate was the better intelligence officer and her help would be greatly appreciated.  
“Why the hell did you let her walk away?” she had asked Steve more than once.

Steve had shrugged and given any number of answers that seemed good at the time. There was still a chance she could go back to the CIA. There was a chance no one had known what she had done. Maybe she didn’t want to come with him. He didn’t want her to get in trouble or killed. She was still upended from the death of her beloved aunt Peggy, and might not have had her head completely in the game.

“Bullshit,” Nat had said. “If you believe for a second she wouldn’t have dropped everything to come with you if you had simply asked, then you’re an ass. A dense one.”  
“It’s not like that, Nat,” he said. “She shouldn’t have her life ruined because of me. I already managed to do that when I brought down SHIELD. And she doesn’t like me like that.”

“I don’t know man,” Sam had piped up. “That’s not what I saw when you did the lip tango with her under that bridge. She seemed pretty on board with it to me.”  
“Seriously?” Nat had asked. “You kissed her?? And I missed it? Damn. How was it?”

“It was fine, quite nice actually,” he had started. “Wait a minute, what difference does it make? So she didn’t right hook me across the jaw over a little kiss. It doesn’t mean she’s into me.”

“Trust me,” Natasha had said, “she’s into you. We didn’t keep in touch much after we went to different departments in SHIELD when I joined the Avengers. But I knew she was keeping an eye on you for Fury.”

“Yes, and you tried to get me to ask her out,” he said. “Which I did, and she said no.”

“She said no because you didn’t know her real name, and she thought saying yes would have been unethical,” Natasha had shrugged. “Personally, I wouldn’t have let that stop me. But twice I talked to her about how you were doing, and although she was pretty good at hiding it, she never quite got that look out of her eyes when she was talking about you. She was pretty highly impressed by you, and Sharon isn’t impressed by much. Or anyone. In fact, more than once, some of our colleagues at SHIELD said she was too jaded. The kind of loyalty she showed, she doesn’t just give that for professional reasons. You’re personal to her. You should’ve taken my suggestion and called her. You’re not real good at this are you?”

“No I’m not,” he grumbled. “You should know that. And even if she was ‘into me’ as you say, it doesn’t matter. I don’t know where she is. Or even if she’s still alive.”  
“Is that why there is a darkness around your heart?” Wanda had asked.

“What are you talking about?” he had asked. 

Wanda had frowned. “It’s difficult to explain what I see or sense,” she had said. “But everyone has a certain feel about them, kind of like a lightbulb. Everyone has different intensities, different colors. Although that’s not really accurate. You have a bright bright bulb light around you. But there’s a part that is dark, as if it is missing. Some days, this dark spot is barely there, usually when we are doing something like a mission or helping someone. But on some days, when we have nothing to do, and you spend the day staring out the window, that dark spot gets bigger.”

Natasha had frowned at that. “However mine looks to you, I apologize.”

Wanda had only smiled sadly. “Yours isn’t as bad as you would think.”

“Mine must be neon,” Sam had quipped. 

“That had gotten a laugh from Wanda but she had not confirmed or denied it.

“I don’t know about lights around me,” Steve had said. “I worry about a lot, that’s all. I worry about all of you, Clint and Scott, and everyone who Tony brought to the airport, especially that spider kid. I worry about Bucky. I worry about where the world is going, and I worry that even with Hydra gone, ultimately what they wanted has come to pass. And yes, I worry about Sharon. I especially worry that she might not be alive anymore and might have died hated my guts. I caused complete chaos in her life, then gave her the cold shoulder and ignored her for two years. Then she sees me at her aunt’s funeral, I cause more chaos, and here we are another year that I haven’t spoken to her. She must think I’m a real winner if she is still alive.”

“Steve,” Nat said softly, “I may not have known Sharon as well as I did years ago, but I promise you, if she still alive, she doesn’t hate you. She reserves that kind of energy for people who deserve it, like Hydra. As to whether or not she’s miffed enough to kick your ass next time she sees you, well that I don’t know. But it won’t be anything you won’t recover from.”

Steve had only shook his head sadly, feeling despondent, and looked out the window. He had been pretty good at keeping thoughts of Sharon at bay, to keep from missing her too much, to keep from feeling as if a storm was brewing in his chest at the thought of her. It wasn’t easy at night, when he needed only three or four hours of sleep, and spent the rest of the dark hours of night trying to keep his mind off of a certain blonde haired woman who seemed to invade his thoughts anytime he let his guard down. He missed her deeply, so much so that it actually surprised him. After all, how well had he actually known her? There were a lot of people that he had known much better, and although he missed them, did not feel a specific ache around his heart at the thought of not seeing them again. What was it about Sharon that made him want to crawl into the fetal position and whimper at the thought of never seeing her again? Why was it her specifically that made him sigh with longing, or wince in pain at the thought that she might have moved on, perhaps even with someone else? How had he become so attached to her having only spent less that a grand total of a full day of hours with her?

“Am I the only one not seeing the obvious here?” Sam had asked. “We spent the last eight months tracking down some of the worst people on the planet who have every interest in not being found. How hard could it be to track down one former SHIELD agent? We should be able to find her, shouldn’t we? At the very least, you would know if she still alive or not. Why haven’t we done this?”

“Finding Sharon won’t be as easy as you think, especially if she doesn’t want to be found,” said Natasha. “Like most of her division and rank, she’d be very good at hiding. But I would bet she wouldn’t mind being found by us, and if that’s the case, would have left some breadcrumbs we could follow in places that only we would think to check. Just say the word, and we can get to looking.”

At that, Steve had perked up. He had not let himself consider finding Sharon, mostly because he believed it would be a futile effort. If she was in hiding, she had a vested interest in not being found by anybody, even him. If she was dead or imprisoned where he couldn’t get to her, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. But what if they could find her? What if they could do it safely?

“If you think you can do it without putting her or us in danger, then by all means go for it,” he had told Natasha. The other woman had nodded and turned to walk away.

Little was said about it in the weeks that followed. Nat kept him up to date on what she was doing, which included utilizing Shuri’s Wakandan resources. Once they brought Shuri into it, it had only taken a few days. Mostly because she was still in contact with Everett Ross, who knew the entire story, which was relayed by to Steve’s team. Sharon had been AWOL for a week following the battle at the German airport, before strolling back into the Berlin office of the CIA, walked right into Everett Ross‘s office, sat down, and then held her wrists out to be handcuffed. According to Ross, said Shuri, he had never been so relieved and pissed off in his life. He had fought hard to get Sharon on his team, at the grumblings of his superiors who suggested she would be better off pushing papers behind a desk. But even though Ross was a bit over eager, to the point of making serious political mistakes, he was not fool enough to toss away a useful tool simply because he might not like the design or where it came from. Sharon was a damn valuable agent, and he intended to have her on his team if she was going to remain in the CIA. Of course it had only take an hour for Ross to realize who had taken Rogers and Wilson’s gear out of the evidence lock up and head strolled out the front door with it in a duffel bag. Given the outcome, namely that Rogers had brought in the actual perpetrator of the UN bombing and had verified that 12 more Winter Soldiers had been neutralized, he had been forced to admit that despite the loss, Steve Rogers had been correct in his course of action. Of course that didn’t change the fact that Sharon had gone against CIA protocol to do what she had done. It was his duty to turn her over to law-enforcement, which he did after thoroughly cursing her out for getting herself thrown off of his team. She had actually been contrite at that, apologizing for causing him trouble.

The powers that be were predictably pissed off as well. Knowing that they couldn’t have Steve Rogers himself or any member of the Shadow Avengers that did not willingly turn themselves in, they had chosen to throw the box at the ones that had. Scott Lang had been given two years of house arrest, Clint Barton had disappeared with his family into the Montana wilderness, and now that they had Sharon, they intended to make an example out of her. The original charges were treason and conspiracy to obstruct justice, along with aiding and abetting known fugitives, all of which could’ve handed down serious sentences. Sharon had been looking at spending the rest of her life in a federal penitentiary, maybe even the Raft. But Ross had not intended to let her go without a fight. He considered himself a professional colleague of hers and a friend if nothing else, and had recently come back from his encounter with T’Challa which had given him a different outlook on life, and had gone to bat for Sharon during the hearings that would determine her fate. 

In her defense, he had pointed out that it was not proper to charge her with obstruction of justice when the result of her actions, as intended, was the verification of justice when Zemo had been brought in and the Winter Soldiers neutralized. The Sokovian Accords, Ross had argued, were meant to apply to super powered individuals to prohibit them from acting as vigilantes, not US law enforcement officials trying to bring about a stop the crime. Therefore, the accords did not apply to Sharon, only US law. That had gotten the charge of treason dropped. As for obstruction of justice and conspiracy to aid and abet fugitives from the law, it had been Ross himself who had pointed out that upon bringing in Rogers, Barnes, and Wilson, he had not allowed them access to a lawyer and had not formally charged them, meaning that, as US citizens, after 72 hours they were technically free to go. That they had left before 72 hours was really more of a formality. And since they had not been charged or given a lawyer, the US government could not hold their property indefinitely, therefore Sharon had not actually committed a crime in giving them their gear back. Furthermore, because the outcome was ended in bringing the perpetrator of the UN bombing into custody, it was not out of line that Sharon should allow Rogers and his team to do so. The CIA frequently made use of those on the other side of the law to bring in bigger fish. This was no different than the CIA or FBI using criminal informants to bring down drug kingpins. When you could get someone else to do your work for you that certainly saved the American taxpayer a lot of trouble. It had been a clever defense that mostly worked. The prosecution had argued that Sharon had been under no such orders to take such action, that Rogers and his friends had left before the 72 hours and therefore holding them in their gear certainly applied at the time that Sharon had taken it.

In the end, the more serious charges had been dropped, and Sharon had been slapped with obstruction of justice and disobeying CIA protocol, as well as disobeying the orders of a direct supervisor. That had resulted in the immediate termination of her job, of course, and after pointing out that Scott Lang only got two years of house arrest after turning himself into a human giant at an airport, the decision was that two years of house arrest was an appropriate punishment for the wayward CIA agent. Shuri had been able to get out of Ross that Sharon faced 2 years of incarceration either in jail or in a residence, to which her cousins had stepped up and allowed her to stay at the Carter estate where she currently residing. It had been child play for a technological genius princess Shuri and seasoned spy Natasha Romanoff to gain access to the audio and visual feeds coming from the bugs inside the house, and to determine Sharon‘s current state. She was a year into her to her incarceration, and keeping busy by playing house mom for her family.

Natasha was sitting at a laptop in the living room of the safe house when he had wandered in and she had told him what she had found.

“Do you want to see her?” she had asked. “I have the feeds from the bugs up now.” She pointed to the laptop screen.

“Nat! What if the CIA realizes that we are seeing the feed? They could give her a lot of hell, possibly even track us.” He had come around anyway to see what she was looking at.

“Not with Shuri’s tech,” Natasha had said. Shuri had apparently landed a minuscule Wakandan drone on the roof of the Carter house, which made it easy to not only tap into the audio and visual fields of the bugs, but disrupt them if necessary. The CIA had no idea that anyone was watching the feeds, as long as they were not disrupted. And the signal bounced to Wakandan satellites, not their safe house location, Nat explained.

“Shuri thinks that over some time, she can record enough footage of Sharon moving around the house, to where if we disrupt the feed and replace it with recorded ones of Sharon, that anyone watching her would be none the wiser. They would be watching recorded videos of Sharon from last Tuesday while the bugs themselves did not broadcast what was actually happening in the house, which could involve you walking to the front door and saying hi. I mean hell, that’s technology that SHIELD had 40 years ago. Shuri’s tech is pretty much untraceable, using frequencies the intelligence agencies of the world don’t even know are possible to use. It would be a breeze for her.”

Steve had not answered right away, instead found himself mesmerized by the sight of Sharon moving around on the screen in front of him. Nat had gotten up from the chair and allowed him to sit and watch. Sharon was washing dishes in the sink, humming to herself. He watched her for a long time, watched as she cleaned up the kitchen and set about cleaning the house. The family did not seem to be home, then he remembered it was in the middle of a weekday and they were probably at work and school. One would think that he would become bored watching her do laundry, but really he didn’t. Sure, he looked away from the screen on occasion to check his own phone or flipping through the TV on the wall. But he always came back to watch what she was doing. It was almost as if he needed to watch in order to convince himself that she was really alive and OK. But then he began to notice something that others might not have. The tune that she hummed to herself was melancholy, with very little cheer from the sound. Her step was just slightly slower than normal. Her shoulders hunched slightly, although she was far from slouching, but it was not her usual strong and upright stance. When she took up a crafting project, her eyes held a faraway look, as if she was not really paying attention to what she was doing. Just from watching, he could tell that she was battling a somber sense of sadness that threatened to overwhelm her if she did not stay busy. Even Wanda remarked on it.

“There is definitely darkness squelching her light,” she had remarked, leaning over Steve’s shoulder to see the woman that had their captain so captivated.

“If that’s your way of saying she looks sad,” Natasha said, “then one doesn’t need to be psychic to see that. She’s incarcerated, I don’t know anybody that looks happy to be incarcerated, even in their own house.”

“And it’s not even her house,” Sam had said, “so she’s probably feeling a bit like a fish out of water, even if it’s family.”

Occasionally the others would check in on Sharon via the video feed, though Sam and Wanda only as a means of doing Steve a favor if he had to be gone somewhere. Nat looked at the feed on occasion looking for weaknesses in the system, even suggesting that perhaps they find a way to bust her out. Steve had nixed the idea.

“She didn’t have to turn herself in the first place, like you said,” he pointed out. “She’s perfectly capable of getting out of that ankle bracelet. I know she is. If she wanted to leave she would. That she hasn’t indicates that she intends to do the full length of sentence and go legit in the eyes of law enforcement. So if we bust her out, then what does that mean for the year she’s already been locked up? Wasted.”

“She may be doing it because she think she doesn’t have anywhere to go,” Nat had pointed out. “If she knows that she is welcome with us, she might be willing to leave.”

“She might,” Steve had agreed. “But then she might not.”

“Is anyone going to actually ask her?” Sam had called from the kitchen with a certain amount of irritation in his voice. He appeared in the doorway. “Seems to me like the most logical course of action is to see if the girl herself has any plans for her future. We might not factor into it. She might have a full five year plan of what she intends to be doing once she’s out of there. Steve, if you’re worried that you’ve ruined her life by suddenly appearing in it and turning it upside down, this would be a way to not do that again. You just show up at her door, and there’s no telling what kind of trouble might happen. Ask her what she wants.”

“And just how am I supposed to do that?” He asked. “I’m pretty sure her phones are bugged.”

Natasha had actually rolled her eyes. “Steve, you are so 20th century. Nobody uses the phones anymore anyway.”

“Carrier pigeon?” Wanda had joked. And then she had looked thoughtful. “Actually that’s not a half bad idea. I could float a hand written note up to her window. But then they would probably see that on the cameras.”

“Not if we disrupt the signal,” Nat had said. “Which we can do, I might add. I’m pretty sure that Shuri has enough recorded video of her by now wearing the various outfit she wears to cobble together a full days’ worth of recorded activity of her moving around the house if we needed to replace it with the live feed.”

Steve had actually felt his heart surge a little bit and the storm in his chest started to subside slightly. “Is that doable? Maybe just a phone call or something. We should check to make sure that the replacement feed goes undetected first, though. We should do a test.”

So a few days later, they had done just that. Shuri had sent them a few compiled videos for the program she had written that would allow them to override the video and audio feed. Natasha had taken note of what outfit Sharon was wearing that particular day and selected certain recorded images of her wearing the same outfit from the week prior. At around 1 PM, Sharon time, Nat had brought down the video feed of her working out in the gym she had set up down in the basement, and replaced it with one of her dusting the furniture in living room. During this test, they didn’t attempt to call or make any other kind of contact, but instead watched the live feed of Sharon in the basement alongside the recorded one of her moving about the house, to wait and see if it was detected by her watch dogs and if anyone called or showed up to investigate. After around two hours, when she had wandered into the same room that the recorded image said she was in, Nat flipped the button that allowed the live feed to take back over and shut down the recorded one. Again they waited, but there was no investigation, phone call or team showing up that indicated that anyone had even noticed anything. The live feed had been down for two hours, and no one was the wiser.

Steve didn’t relax for three days, obsessively watching the feed not necessarily to watch Sharon, but to see if there was any retaliation from what they had done. There wasn’t.

“Well, I guess that means you can visit now,” Sam said to him with a grin. “At the very least you can probably call her.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Steve had said. “If she doesn’t want to talk to me, that could be awkward. If I ask if I can visit and explain to her what we can do, she might tell me not to come.”

“So what are you going to do?” asked Wanda.

“Pick a good time to show up and visit,” he said.

“Well you may get your chance,” Nat had said looking at her phone. “Apparently, her cousin‘s wife just booked a cruise for the entire family the day after the kids get out of school for summer. Looks like Sharon is going to be looking at a week by herself in a couple of months.”

That had been the opportunity Steve have been waiting for. “Perfect. They’ll be out of the house, and I can probably go by after dark. No one should see me going up to the house.”

“Just make sure she doesn’t shoot you,” Natasha had said without looking up from her phone. “Sharon has a fast trigger finger.”

They spent the months between planning out how they could safely get Steve into the country undetected long enough to visit with Sharon. He refused to let any of the rest of them come along, stating that he would rather not have to bust them all out of the Raft again if things went south. They had accepted with nods, though giving each other secrets smiles knowing that he also didn’t want too much interference. In the meantime, he threw himself into work busting up criminal rings and assisting official law enforcement anonymously in order to keep his mind off of the fact that it would be several months before he would be able to see Sharon. When he wasn’t working, he fielded remarks from Nat about his habit of watching Sharon‘s video feed, with her jokingly accusing him of being a dirty old man voyeur. Sam had clapped him on the shoulder and assured him that they would turn the computer off of the live feed if things got interested in between him and Sharon, but they intended to be watching the outside to make sure there was no ambush at the very least. Steve had felt himself go red and mumbled thanks, but Sam’s remark had made him question himself a little bit deeper. What exactly was he expecting from Sharon by visiting her? The truth was, he really didn’t know. A number of scenarios flashed through his head repeatedly starting with her yelling at him to get out, going through the full spectrum to another with her throwing herself into his arms. What would actually end up happening would probably be somewhere in between, he reasoned.

Finally the day approached when Sharon‘s family would be leaving for vacation. Natasha flew their quinjet, usually hidden in a nearby cave, undetected over the Atlantic Ocean and deposited him on a backcountry road in Virginia that was around 10 miles away from the residential area where the Carter estate was located. Under the cover of night, he hiked to the location and took note of the disengaged laser perimeter fence that circled the property. Stark design, no doubt, although a little old by Tony’s standards. Was it Howard’s? Something put in place to protect Peggy and her family? Steve felt both an odd sense of relief and sadness at that, but pushed it out of his mind. If it was still functional, it meant that the Carters were not defenseless, for which he was grateful.

It was one in the morning when he had arrived, and the family had left two days before, meaning that Sharon was alone in the house. But he didn’t approach right away. Once again, he had to make sure he had not been detected by any of the teams watching her. Nat had told him that standard procedure for surveillance of that kind was to have three different teams rotating in shifts to watch the person being surveilled. It was considered grunt work and usually assigned to someone who was being disciplined. That meant that after a certain amount of time doing it, the teams were in danger of becoming complacent. When SHIELD had put in this form of surveillance, they usually rotated personnel every couple of weeks. However, the CIA preferred to operate in a manner where the same people tended to watch the target through the course of their surveillance. The idea was that if you were someone who had been on the case from day one, you would notice any difference in behavior patterns. Not an unsound theory, but surveillance missions rarely went beyond a couple of weeks. Sharon had been incarcerated for a year and a half at this point. If the same people were watching her from the beginning, they were probably good and sick of the assignment, especially whoever had pulled the late shift. Watching someone sleep every night for 18 months would be enough to drive anyone crazy, as if they were under house arrest themselves. Approaching at night meant that it was less likely that anyone would be paying attention to the video feeds if they were switched over to the recorded duplicate feed. There was also very real possibility that the watcher was probably asleep himself.

Steve had circled the entire property three times after Nat had brought the system down. He made note of where the garage was angled in relation to the large house on the hill, as well as the driveways and approaches of the two smaller houses on the property, one that had belonged to Peggy’s daughter Kathy and her family before they had moved to a town three hours away, and the second one that had belonged to Sharon‘s father, who had been the son of Peggy’s brother. It was the second house that had his attention, after thoroughly making sure that the larger house was secure, and ensuring that the other smaller house was empty, he easily picked the lock of the house that now belonged to Sharon‘s mother, disengaged the alarm, and locked himself in. They had determined that the listening devices were only in the big house, that no feed seemed to be coming from the two smaller empty houses. This was where Sharon‘s mother lived when she was in the country, Steve knew, and wondered if he would ever meet her. 

It had been this house and the bigger one on the hill where Sharon had grown up. He tapped a message out to his team that he was safely in the smaller house, indicating that they could allow the system go back to live feed for the rest of the night and next day. There was no point in giving the watching agents an indication that something was amiss with the feed by allowing the duplicate feed to be up for too long. He received Natasha’s reply, and then set about exploring the small house. It really was tiny. It consisted of a small kitchen and a joining living room with a small table in between for meals. There were two bedrooms and two bathrooms one on either side of the living room. The first one he explored was definitely the master suite, and had been empty long enough for a thin film of dust to settle on the furniture. This would have been Sharon‘s parents’ room. He only glanced around briefly, stopped at a framed photo on the nightstand of a young couple with a small blonde haired daughter. Sharon and her parents, he realized. He noted that Sharon looked like her mother, but that her father, who had died in combat when Sharon was young, had a distinctive Carter look that reminded him a little of Peggy. His father, Peggy’s brother Michael, must have resembled his sister. He smiled but left it where it was.

In the middle of the living room were stacks of boxes marked with Sharon‘s name, which, after sifting through a few of them, he recognized as things that would have been in an apartment. He noticed the customs tags on them and realize that these must’ve come from wherever she had been living in Germany and stacked up in here. It must mean that after she was finished living at the big house for her house arrest, that she intended to come stay here. The second bedroom was undoubtedly meant for a younger woman. The bedspread on the bed was a soft colored patchwork quilt, and there were still some posters on the wall of bands and what look like the cast of a 1990s television show he had once seen. There were martial arts trophies on the dresser and a few for soccer, and some pictures of a teenage Sharon in frames with several other kids appear to have been taken at various extracurricular events.

It felt a little strange to be standing in this room that had belonged to Sharon when she was much younger, but he had to admit it made him smile to see her as she was before she became the hyper focused dedicated agent he had known her to be. What might she have been if she had not chosen SHIELD? They would never know, but it did make for some interesting consideration of the person she might be deep down that she didn’t show other people. Would he ever see that person? He washed up a bit in the bathroom that had likely been Sharon‘s, as it still had some scented soaps in it. He mused that he hadn’t really thought of her as a scented soap sort of person, and wondered if her mother had bought them? Then, rather than taking one of the beds, he figured it would be more proper to sleep on the couch in the living room, which he did.

He awoke the next morning to a rather stiff back, typed out a message to his team indicating that he was still OK, and they responded that no one seem to have noticed a change in the video feeds. Throughout the entire day, he had little to do except eat the energy bars he had shoved in his pocket, watch antenna TV because no cable or satellite seem to come to this particular house, and tried not to go stir crazy, wondering how Sharon did it every day. That day seem to have been the longest day of his life, and that was counting some of the days he would come awake while trapped in the ice. It seemed to take forever for the sun to go down, and another forever for Sharon to settle in and then go to bed. Finally, around midnight, Natasha sent a message to his watch letting him know that she was bringing down the system and put it on the recorded feed that Shuri had prepared for them a few months ago. He waited an hour after the feed went up, and then carefully snuck out of the house and headed up to the main house on the hill. He circled twice looking for trouble, and then carefully approached the back door. As Natasha had warned him, it had a complex alarm system on it along with some motion sensing devices. The Wakanda drone that was still parked up in the tree above the house easily disrupted the signals, but he still had to pick the lock. It had been a while since he had had to do something like this, and the locks of the modern age were far more complicated than the ones he had to pick in Nazi Germany. Finally, the door swung open and he cautiously stepped inside. After closing and locking it behind him, he stood in the darkened kitchen for a full five minutes just listening, making sure that no one had heard him, specifically Sharon, coming down to ambush whoever the intruder might be. There was not a sound.

He slowly wandered around the downstairs of the house, familiarizing himself with the layout that had become familiar from watching the video feeds. Then he slowly crept up stairs. The wooden floors creaked, and he stopped periodically to keep from creating too much noise. A part of him was still paranoid that the video feeds were still active and someone might see him. He waited a lot longer than he should have perhaps, but he wanted to make sure no one was coming. Finally he slipped into Sharon‘s room and approached the side of her bed. She was sound asleep.

He wondered how best to wake her? It probably wouldn’t be a good idea to reach out and shake her. That was asking to have his wrist broken. Not that he thought she could overpower him, most people couldn’t. And he was pretty sure he was faster than she was. But he would rather do this without too much drama. He settled on whispering to her.

“Sharon. Sharon.”

She whimpered in her sleep and rolled towards the sound of his voice. She looked so vulnerable lying there, the strong woman he knew replaced by this beautiful slumbering form who, he knew, was barely keeping it together from overwhelming loneliness. He felt a strong emotion nearly over power him. He had been lonely for her too, he had known that, but he hadn’t realized how much.

“Steve? Where are you?” She whispered. 

He chuckled. “I’m right here next to you.”

Then, before he could stop himself, he reached out to her shoulder to shake her awake.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Upping the rating for this chapter. Under 18s, you know the drill, scamper off now. This is the last chapter as of right now, though I suspect I may end up adding to this story once we know what happens to the gang in Avengers 4.

Steve Rogers. Formerly Captain America. International fugitive. The man who had a tendency to thoroughly mess up her life every time she encountered him. The man whose face frequently filled her dreams unwittingly, and left her staring out the window during most days wondering where he was or if he ever thought about her. The man she had given up everything for. Whose face she had been longing to see. He stood a few steps back rubbing his wrist where he had blocked the swinging fist she had hurled in his direction when she was still half asleep. He was shaking his head with a smile, looking for bruises, probably figuring he deserved a few for jolting her awake like that. She felt a sudden familiar rush of emotion sweep over her, and she had a nearly irresistible urge to both hug him and punch him at the same time.

“Steve?” she whispered. “Is it really you?” she asked, gently tugging a strand of hair behind her left ear. He grinned and rubbed his chin in response. It was the signals that they had agreed upon the last time they saw each other, her tuckking her hair and him rubbing his chin. They both knew that certain technology existed that could allow people to change their face and voice convincingly, even Natasha Romanoff had used it the day they had brought down SHIELD. It was their way of signaling to each other that it was truly the person standing in front of them and not an imposter.

“Yes it’s me,” he said. “I’m here. And I’m still not sure if you want me to be. But I had to come.”

She barely heard him as she threw her arms around him and buried her face in the side of his neck. He was momentarily surprised, then wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. She felt him inhale the center of her hair as she did the same to him. She recognized his scent easily. She had been the one to plant the bugs in the apartment he had lived in next to the one she had resided in to keep an eye on him. Frequently she went in to check that they were still functioning and to check for any evidence that he might be mentally deteriorating. He had taken to using some easily found inexpensive form of shampoo for men that had a musky piney sent. It tended to permeate his apartment and his clothes, and she had learned to associate that scent with him. She squeezed him hard, still needing to convince herself that she was really awake, he was really here, and this wasn’t some desperate dreaming hallucination brought on by far too much isolation in the week since her cousins had left on vacation. 

Then suddenly she remembered the bugs. Surely somebody was listening and watching this entire exchange right now! It would be only a matter of minutes before a team of federal agents was busting down the front door and coming after him. That would probably be shots fired. He had to leave now! 

“Steve! You have to leave!” she said frantically. “They’ll be here, this house is bugged, they can see and hear you. You only have a few minutes! You’ve got to run for it unless you want to be arrested and tossed on the Raft.”

“Shhhh. Shhhh. It’s OK, it’s fine,” he soothed. 

“No it isn’t!” she said frantically, trying to move to the window to see if anyone was coming up the drive. “You’ve got to get out of here.”

“Sharon,” he continued calmly, “I know very well that this house is bugged. Natasha filled me in on what would have been standard CIA procedure for someone like you under house arrest. We know they’ve been watching and listening. Do you think I would have wandered in here under those conditions?”

“So what did you do?” she asked, crossing her arms in front of her.

“Nat tapped into the feed to this house months ago,” he said with a shrug. “We’ve checked on you every so often, though I promise we haven’t been watching you in the shower.” His eyes twinkled with a slight grin, that under any other circumstance is she might have returned, but she still wasn’t clear on what he was saying.

“You’ve been watching me?” she asked.

“Not exactly. Well I have a few times,” he admitted. “We tapped into the feed for the purpose of recording your movements when nobody was in the house. That ankle bracelet you’re wearing tells your monitors what room you’re in at any given point, so we had to collect enough footage of you in every room to play back in the event that you moved into that room when we had brought the feed down like we just did.”

“So what you’re saying is the audio and video feed haven’t exactly been turned off, they’re just watching recordings of me?” she asked  
“Yes,” he said. “Right now, as far as they’re concerned, you’re still asleep.”

“And when they figure out they’re watching a loop video, they’ll come busting down the door and start slinging all our possessions to the ground. They broke Isaac’s Nintendo DS last time. Steve, it’s not that I’m not glad to see you, but I really don’t need strangers tromping through here at one in the morning going through the kids’ underwear drawers.”

“They didn’t before,” he said. 

“Before?” she gaped at him. 

“We tested it twice before. Once two months ago and again two weeks ago. We had the live feed down for a few hours the first time and a whole day the second time. Nat wanted to see how long it would take them to notice. They never did.”

“And if they had, they’d have busted down the door and flung our stuff to the ground,” she stormed. 

“In my defense I didn’t know about either of these,” he said holding his hands up. “Apparently Wanda has been worried about me. Something about the negativity I’m giving off making the air too heavy for her to breathe or something. Some days I’m so depressed, according to her, she can’t even walk down the hall of the room I’m in. I’d concur that it’s not that bad, but she disagrees. She finally cornered me and asked what the hell was wrong with me, and trust me, and there’s no point in lying to an empath. So I told her.”

“Told her what?”

“That I....I miss you,” he said, looking away. “I mean I know I barely know you. I mean, we talked a lot in the hallway when we lived next door, and I realize now you weren’t faking most of that. And the day of Peggy’s funeral. I know there’s a lot about you that I still don’t know. But I do feel like I know you, that we’re....friends, maybe? And I think you know and understand me. Not many people do.”   
“Steve, we are friends....and you do know me. But this still doesn’t make sense. How did you end up here?” 

“Once Wanda dragged it out of me that missing you was the reason I was moping, her and Nat put some serious effort into trying to find you. I mean, I did too, but Natasha is obviously better at it than me. When I couldn’t find you myself, I was afraid I never would. You might be dead or imprisoned. I was practically relieved to hear you were with your family, though I hated hearing that you were locked up. Anyway, they found you, hacked the feeds, then told me.”

“And you decided to visit?” she asked. 

“Not at first,” he admitted. “I wanted to wanted to run right here, bugs be damned, run right through the front door and hug you. But then Nat pointed out that you would probably punch me for scaring your family, would end up with another year tacked onto your sentence, and we had no idea how you felt...about us. Me. For all I knew, you were mad at me and never wanted to see me again. So I waited.” 

“Why wouldn’t I want to see you?” she asked. 

He hung his head. “I’ve done nothing but screw up by you. You watched my back for two years, came running to my defense when Fury was shot, and I repayed you by acting like an ass to you. The last words I spoke to you were sarcastic and cold. Two years pass before I see you again and that’s when I found out how you fought Rumlow and delayed the carriers, got your arm slashed and saved lives. I didn’t even call to say thanks. Then at Peggy’s funeral, I was prepared to be angry at you again. First you didn’t tell me you were SHIELD, then I find out you didn’t tell me you were related to her. But I was done being mad at you. I could see how much it hurt you to lose her too. I wasn’t the only one missing her. I should have comforted you better. And then you gave up your career to help me. And I....kiss you...and walk away. I should have asked you to come with us. I mean you might have ended up dead or imprisoned, but I should have asked. I let you walk away and I go silent for another two years. How are you not mad at me?” 

She stared at him. 

“Oh Steve...” she choked, unsure of what to say. “No, I don’t. .. it’s not like that. I know why you had to do what you did. I don’t blame you for it. There isn’t anything that has happened to me that I didn’t choose with my own decisions or wasn’t prepared for. Including this.” She gestured around the room.

“So you don’t hate me? You’re not about to tell me to leave and never come back?” he asked

She laughed. “Well I might tell you to leave, but not because I don’t want to see you. Because I don’t want to see you in a jail cell. I seriously doubt that if you get arrested, you’ll be put in conditions as cozy as this.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Ironic isn’t it? After everything we’ve both done for the country, this is where we are. You’re locked up in your cousin’s house for giving me my shield back, and I’m a wanted fugitive.”

She shrugged. “Remind me to tell you sometime with Peggy once said about those who dedicate their lives to the government. To them we are only tools to be used and discarded. We don’t do it for them, we do it for our families, neighbors, friends and fellow citizens. Something like that.”

“I’m sure it was sardonic, yet truthful,” he said.

He took a step forward and held out a hand to her. Before she knew it, she had taken his hand in hers, and then found herself wrapped up in his arms again. Knowing that no one was watching, she allowed herself to relax against him. She felt him begin to relax as well, some of the tension sleeping out of his body. She became aware that he seemed rather weary, and wondered how long it had been since he slept. Then she felt his stomach growl.

He chuckled. “Sorry. When you have to consume 5000 calories a day to maintain, this is right about the time you start wanting a midnight snack. Don’t mind me.”

She looked over at the clock on the nightstand. It was 1:30 in the morning.

“Well,” she said pulling away, “if you don’t mind reheated lasagna, I have plenty.”

“That actually sounds pretty good,” he said. “But I don’t want to eat up all your food.”

“Unless you’re planning on having a feeding frenzy, I don’t mind,” she said, turning to walk out the door. He followed. “So I’m assuming the sensors are down all over the house?”

“Yes,” he said. “There shouldn’t be an issue. And at this hour, whoever is supposed to be watching your video feed is probably not paying too close attention. Especially after 18 months of no excitement. Unless you’ve been secretly running an offshoot branch of SHIELD from your Apple Watch.” He pointed to her wrist.

She laughed, and said, “So you know about my watch?”

“Nat told me that she suspected you had some hidden programs on it, but so well hidden that the boys who processed all of your belongings and searched this house before you moved into it missed it. Was she correct?” he asked.

“Tell her the ‘Slenderman’ game is my favorite on this thing. She’ll know what that means,” said Sharon.

Steve raised his eyebrows.

“It appears to be a game,” she said, “and even plays like one. But the in-app functions as a communication to a private server that Peggy set up before she retired. Nobody knows to look for it. There are chat and messaging functions in it, and even a video chat feature. I know they’re monitoring all of our electronics, so this one had to be stealthy. I wrote it myself.” 

“Clever,” he said with a smile. “So in theory we would be able to talk to you with the program?”

She nodded, taking his hand and leading him out of the room and down the stairs to the kitchen. She dug out the now cold lasagna and sliced portions for both of them, because she was hungry again, and heated his up for him in the microwave but left hers cold. There was something about cold Italian food that she found comforting for some reason. They sat at the counter eating leftover lasagna and talking. 

He told her in hushed tones, as they were both still paranoid about the bugs whether they were in active or not, about how he had taken Bucky to Wakanda. He told her about the astounding technology of the hidden little country where the mysterious king, Black Panther, hailed from. He told her of T’Challa’s willingness to help after exposing Zemo as the actual murderer of his father in attempt to draw out the Avengers. He told her that the king had considered it a favor since, if he had killed Bucky for a crime he had not committed while wearing the mantle of Black Panther, he would have dishonored himself to the point of having to abdicate the throne. That the crew that followed Captain America had prevented him from doing this had saved him a political nightmare back home and in return he was more than happy to give them a place to hide. 

Steve told her about the king’s sister, a genius more impressive than Tony Stark or the young teenage boy Peter Parker that he had found, who believed that she would be able to deprogram Bucky from the brainwashing of the Winter Soldier program. He told her about busting out the other Shadow Avengers from the Raft, and how Clint had wanted to go home, and so had Scott Lang. They had found Natasha holed up with Bobbi and Hunter in Amsterdam, and had stayed with them for a while. Periodically, he told her, he knew that Wanda was sneaking off to meet with Vision, but he opted not to say anything as long as she stayed out of prison in the process. Occasionally Natasha would go to visit Clint and his family, but not often enough to attract attention to the Barton family who was trying to hide. In the meantime, they occupied themselves by taking down cells of criminal behavior around the planet. He told her about sending the phone to Tony Stark, being ready to come if they were ever needed, even if it meant in prison after, but always being on the lookout themselves for any type of threat the likes of which attacked New York a couple of years ago. And, he told her, even though Hydra was officially defeated, that didn’t mean that little remnant cells weren’t still causing trouble in various places.

“Like Cambodia?” she asked.

Startled, he looked up. “How did you know we were in Cambodia?”

She told him about skimming the news for sightings of them, and learning to read between the lines as to which ones might be factual and which ones weren’t. He made a face that indicated that he was fairly impressed with her talents. She told him about possibly hooking up with Phil Coulson’s newly formed SHIELD once her sentence was up, and he nodded but didn’t say anything. They fell silent for a while, and she gathered up their empty plates, washed them, and put them in the drying rack. Then she thought the better of it, and put one of the plates back in the cabinet. At some point, the audiovisual sensors watching her would come back online, in the presence of two plates in the drying rack when there was only supposed to be her in the house might give them away. For a brief moment, she was glad that her intelligence skills that would have noticed that were still intact, while also feeling frustration that she couldn’t use them more affectively.

When they were finished cleaning up, she turned him, not certain what all she could say that they had not already covered. Dawn was not far away, and she was tired, but she knew she would not be sleeping anymore that night. On the other hand, she knew he would probably have to leave before the sun got too high in the sky. It would not do for him to be spotted leaving the house by any of the neighbors, even though the nearest one was a couple hundred yards away. The worst of it was, she really didn’t want him to leave.  
They had both fallen silent, having exhausted the number of topics they could go over for smalltalk. Sharon could see Steve periodically glancing at the clock on the wall that read four in the morning. She wasn’t sure if it was because he wanted to leave, or if it does because he was afraid of discovery once the morning rolled around.

“You have to leave don’t you?” she asked.

His face looks sad. “I don’t want to. I know I can’t stay for too long, but after a year of not seeing you, I don’t want it to be over in just a few hours.”

“I know what you mean,” she replied. “I mean, it’s not like I’ve been alone all these years. The family is usually here. This is the first time I’ve actually been alone for longer than a few hours. But even when they’re here....”

“It’s sort of the same way with me,” he replied. “The others are usually around where ever we are staying, but sometimes, it feels like I’m all alone in the house.”

“And you start leaving television and stereos on just to have some background noise and distract you from the oppressive silence?” she asked.

“Exactly.” He nodded. 

She stared at him. He stared back. Then, impulsively, she reached out and grabbed his hand in hers. He gave her fingers a slight squeeze, and then tugged on her hand slightly. She wasn’t sure who moved first, but the next thing she knew his arms were around her and she was resting her head on his chest again. He rubbed her back and swayed a little, and she sighed and snuggled against him. Now she really didn’t want him to leave. Steve was torn. He knew the sun would be up in a few hours and he’d best be gone before there was too much daylight and someone would spot him leaving. But he knew it was going to be damn near impossible to walk out the door now. They had agreed previously to keep in touch using the app on her watch that she had shown him earlier. And he was sure that she already had some way of sneaking her own communications tech into the house that would be equally undetected as the drone sitting on the chimney at the moment. But simply talking to her over the phone or seeing her face in a video chat would only be a Band-Aid. Nothing would replace the sensation of her in his arms as she was now.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen, you know,” she said.

“What wasn't?” he asked.

“Liking you,” she said “You were only supposed to be an assignment. Something I had done three times already before, shadow someone and report on their movements, even keep them safe. If Fury gave it to me because of our connection through Peggy, maybe he thought I would work harder at it, I don’t know. I was fully prepared to go in and be professional. And I think I succeeded for the most part.”

“You did,” he said with a smile.

“Not entirely,” she said. “I wasn’t supposed to grow fond of you, like you. But you’re just so...good. Likable. Endearingly sweet the same way that Disney movies are. I mean I watched you help old ladies cross the street. I thought that was just some cliché thing. I don’t know, maybe comforting is a better word. Working with the worst of humanity in your job, you tend to become jaded, think that all of humanity is really probably long overdue for a good asteroid hit or something. But then you come along with your life outlook from a bygone era, but seems to remind us that life was simpler, more straightforward. And that sometimes people just did the right thing because it was the right thing to do.”

“Thanks. I think,” he said with a wry smile. “Although I’m not sure how to take it when the girl you like compares you to Mickey Mouse. But for what it’s worth, Dr. Erskine basically told me the same thing the night before Project Rebirth. I got what he was trying to say then, I think I get what you’re trying to say now.”

"You like me?” she asked with smile that was slightly surprised, but also slightly flirty. 

He gave her a mock exasperated look. “Well, I don’t just violate house arrest protocol, gain the technology of a hidden African nation, risk arrest and lifelong imprisonment in a hidden prison out in the North Sea just to come in and eat leftover lasagna with anyone.”

She gave an honest laugh at that one, but then sobered up yet. “But why me? It’s not as if there wouldn’t have been any other takers since you woke up.”

“Not anyone who bothered to know me as well as you do. And I don’t know, I can’t really explain it. It’s just you. Even before I knew who you were, for the two years we would pass each other in the hallway, I just felt like, I don't know, there was something especially important about you. It was you then, it’s you now. I can't really put words to it.”

She felt a certain overwhelming choking emotion and fought to keep the tears from her eyes. All She could manage to croak out was a mumbled thanks. Then, without preamble, his lips found hers and they were kissing passionately. Time seemed to stop for both of them as they became focused only on each other. His hands came up under her arms and lifted her easily up against the wall. As he had earlier, he pressed his hips against hers to help hold her up, and she felt the hardening length of him pressing into her belly. The answering flood of her core caught her by surprise. Since when did she get immediately and unapologetically turned on for any man, especially this fast?

*Since it’s Steve Rogers.*

(Shut up)

He held her up level with his head effortlessly in a show of strength that reminded her of how powerful he could be. Not that he would ever dream of continuing if she said no, but he’d be nearly impossible to resist otherwise. She wondered if the serum had also done something to whatever pheromones he gave off, because she was rapidly losing her ability to think. Her breathing sped up and her head was spinning. Steve let out a sound that sounded vaguely like a whimper and his breathing matched hers. There wasn’t a need to talk. His question was in the careful way he ran his hands from her back cautiously to her front and her moving her chest into his grip instead of away from it. Her slight nod of ascent was all he needed. He hoisted her onto his hips and carried her out of the kitchen. 

The slight buzz on his wrist from the message coming in jolted him a little, but he didn’t bother to read it. He knew what the message would say anyway. The others were turning off the feed, they knew where this was headed and wanted to give him space. He'd thank them later and trust that someone was at least watching the perimeter of the property. And then he chased all thoughts of everything else from his mind. Sharon’s mind had gone completely blank, otherwise she might have wondered herself who might have been watching. But she was lost in a spinning whirlwind to the point where she was only vaguely aware of him carrying her from the kitchen, supporting her with only one hand while feeling his way for the stairs with the other. He easily carried her up the stairs as if she didn’t weigh anything and returned to her bedroom. He carefully deposited her on the bed, following her down and settled on top of her. Their kisses became more urgent, not frenzied, but definitely not slow. 

Over the past couple of years, Steve Rogers had featured frequently in her fantasies, often to a certain amount of frustration for not being able to fulfill them. The last 18 months had been particularly difficult, knowing she was being watched constantly and knowing that any attempts to relieve her own needs would probably be witnessed, with the sole exception of when she was in the shower. Thankfully it was a fairly good shower head on the upstairs bathroom shower. She knew for a fact there were no bugs in there, probably having to do with the fact that the legality of keeping an eye on her through surreptitious surveillance probably did not extend into the legal gray area of someone watching the children disrobe and shower because they used that same bathroom. She had checked thoroughly, and knew there were no bugs in there, so on the few occasions she had felt an overwhelming need to do something about those fantasies, that’s where she had ended up. The imagined scenarios that would play out in her mind had involved many different locations and circumstances, but ironically non-had featured being in the guest bedroom of the Carter house with a house arrest ankle bracelet still locked onto her leg and him on top of her. Well, she supposed there was a first time for everything. Including this. She knew she should probably stop him, it was any number of complications that could come from sleeping with him. But frankly, she just didn’t have the willpower at this point. She needed him, he was here, and damned if she was going to pass up this opportunity that would likely not come around again.

For his part, Steve was doing his best to convince himself that he wasn’t dreaming either. This was really happening, he was really here, Sharon was really here, and this was going to happen. He wanted to drown himself in the oblivion of no thought that he seemed to be spiraling down into, but the last part of his brain that was not shutting down due to fevered hormones decided to assert itself just long enough for him to break the kiss and look down at her.

“You’re sure this is what you want?” he asked. 

She groaned and said “Yes, Steve. This is what I want.”

“You, uh, don’t happen to have, uh, protection...do you? Sam told me to bring some but I didn't want to presume too much.”

She laughed. “No I’m good. Ten year IUD on year seven. It was standard for female SHIELD agents. I didn’t see the point in taking it out. I haven’t exactly had the chance to be sleeping around and pick up anything nefarious since my last checkup, and I’m going to assume you’ve been too busy.”

His ears turned red. “Not in the least. In fact uh...well, as far as experience goes, I’m a tad lacking. I hope you're not going to be disappointed here.”

She raised her eyebrows. “First time?”

“No,” he said softly. “Second time.”

They were both quiet for a second, before she said “I know I’m probably going to regret asking, but was that first time recently or decades ago?”

“Decades,” he said softly. “Right after Bucky di...fell from the train. I was in a pretty bad state. Which admittedly is not a good time for your first time. But I think she knew what I needed. No one ever knew. Not even the Commandos, so I don’t know if she ever told them later. Or anyone. It was quick, and well out of sight. If anyone had known, I would have just gotten a slap on the wrist, but she...”

“Probably would’ve been court-martialed,” Sharon finished.

Steve nodded. The silence that followed probably should have been awkward, but instead was oddly companionable, both of them mourning the same person but from different standpoints. 

Finally Sharon spoke. “We should probably just agree that we will have to come to terms with that. I guess it goes without saying that I probably wouldn’t take well to being compared in this aspect. So if you promise not to say anything about your previous encounter in the middle of things, I’m good.”

Steve smiled. “Honestly,” he said, “I really don’t think of her when I look at you. Although you are alike in some ways, you’re very different in others. I kind of still see you as my neighbor across the hall, even though I know you never were. But if you promise to see me as Steve and not Captain America, I think it’ll be pretty easy for me to say that I’ll never compare you to her.”

“I don’t see Captain America when I see you,” she said. “I just see you. Steve.”

That was all he needed. He bent down to kiss her again, and this time there was no hesitation. He brushed her hair back from her face, losing himself in her scent and her presence. Her arms wrapped around him and he felt himself start to relax, as if the sheer weight of the world that had been threatening to break him the last two years was slowly starting to lift away. Their kisses started off slowly, tenderly, almost comforting, but quickly escalated to passionate. Steve felt himself converting all of his weariness and heartache over the splitting of the Avengers and being on the run into the kisses he was showering on Sharon, and she began responding just as eagerly. The world seemed to fade away as they lost themselves in each other. Neither knew who moved first but within minutes, they had shed their clothes. Steve easily moved on top of her and Sharon responded by wrapping her legs around his waist. In seconds, he was inside her and the rise to climax was swift and powerful lasting only a minute or two. She yelped in surprise and almost relief when the orgasm crashed over her and he groaned and followed her over the edge. The warmth of his release flooded her. He collapsed on top of her, spent but finally somewhat relaxed. At least he didn't feel as if he was about to snap from the tension that had seemed ever present since he had fled Siberia with Tony’s accusing voice at his back.

She sighed contentedly against his shoulder and the storm in his chest subsided and was replaced by a glowing feeling. Distantly, he wondered what Wanda would say about him or her if she could see them now, and then decided he was very grateful that she couldn’t. At least he hope she wasn’t watching.

“That was a little faster than I intended,” he said sheepishly. 

“It was amazing,” she murmured, her eyes still closed. 

They snuggled for a while, dozed, lightly stroking each other's skin, but not completely falling asleep. The sky outside the windows was noticeably lighter and some birds were starting to sing. Thier time was running short. Sharon rolled over to face him and kissed him again. He smiled and kissed her back.

“It's morning,” she said. 

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I've got maybe an hour before I really can't stay anymore.”

“If you're planning on taking commercial transportation away from here, you should probably shower before you head out,” she said.

“Not commercial, no, but a shower I won't turn down,” he said with a knowing smile. She smiled back.

He forced himself to roll off of her and help her easily to her feet, where she wobbled a bit and gave him a flirty but almost sheepish smile. He couldn't help smiling back and taking her in his arms gratefully. Without a word, she took his hand and led him into the bathroom. She started turning on the water in the shower and Steve felt himself stir again as he realized his shower fantasies were about to come true. She turned on the spray and adjusted the temperature before stepping in. He was about to follow her, but hesitated at the sight of the water running down her bare skin and decided taking a moment to enjoy the view was best for his overall mental health. 

He watched, fascinated, as the water glided down between her breasts and legs, and felt his mouth go dry and his erection return to full mission ready status. She smiled at him and held out her hand, inviting him to join her. Unable to resist any longer, he rushed into the shower and gathered her up in his arms and brought his lips down to hers. Now it was her turn to enjoy the sight of the water sliding over his skin especially his amazing chest and abs. She ran her hands evenly over him, grateful that they had gotten there initial urgency out-of-the-way a few minutes earlier because she wanted to make this last and wasn't sure they would have been able to otherwise. He pressed himself against her and purposely rubbed his skin against hers. He felt her shiver at the sensation. They spent several minutes just feeling each other before turning to the business of actually getting clean knowing that it probably wouldn't happen if they didn't do it now. They both ran their soapy hands over the other's body, and admittedly there was more kissing than there was actual cleaning. Sharon was in ecstasy at the sensation of his soapy hands moving across her back and chest as her own moved over him and her kisses became more urgent as she felt the need for him deep within her become almost overwhelming. His own need for her was becoming almost unbearable and he waited just long enough for the water to rinse them free of soap before pushing her up against the tile wall and lifting her easily to slide inside her. 

She melted against him as he filled her. Everything ceased to exist for her even the water pulsing around them as she was only aware of the hard hot length of him pushing deep. He held her up easily as he begins to move his hips against hers. He felt her surrender as she wrapped her legs around his waist and held onto him. Her first orgasm hit faster than she expected so soon after their previous intense lovemaking, but she didn't have much time to dwell on it, all she could do was ride the waves of pleasure crossing through her nervous system. Steve felt her ripple around him and he redoubled his efforts, feeling his own climax approaching swiftly. She came again harder this time and the milking squeezing sensation of her inner muscles proved too much for him. He cried out and burst apart inside her, unloading himself in helpless waves of joy and bliss. They slumped against each other completely spent and he slipped out of her regretfully. With a few final comforting kisses, Sharon turned the water off and let him out of the shower to help him dry off. 

She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him gently for several minutes feeling him finally relax. 

“I love you, Sharon,” he whispered, suddenly instantly self conscience wondering if he had said too much too soon. 

She was quiet for a few moments before she whispered “I love you too Steve. I have for a long time.”

“You're not just saying that because I said it first are you?” he said with a slight tease in his tone but half serious. 

“As long as you meant it too,” she said. 

“I did. And thank you. More than you know. This isn't easy for me,” he said. 

“Me neither she admitted. There's a lot of history and baggage that we both had before ever meeting each other, to say nothing of everything that's happened since. But we'll get through it.” 

“As long as I have you,” he said. “Even if it's only over video chat for now.”

“Likewise,” she said with her famous flirty smile before giving him a kiss. 

Steve gazed down at her with a smile before she turned to dig out some clean clothes for herself and help him gather up his to put on. He knew it would be a long time before he was able to mend fences with Tony if ever and it might be a long time or even never before he was able to get Bucky sorted out. He might always be a wanted international fugitive or it might be sorted out next week. He knew he would love and miss Peggy forever but there was something poetic in starting his new future with Sharon. Despite how strange it might seem to others, he knew that there was no one else in the world who knew him as well as she did, and that meant everything to him at this point. As long as she was with him, even if it took the rest of her sentence to wait out, he knew that if nothing else in his life ever worked out at least some part of him would be OK. It was all either of them could hope for. 

Finally, they were dressed, and headed downstairs. She made him one of her famous waffle breakfast sandwiches and some coffee to go. Then, after around five more minutes of passionate kissing, they finally broke apart and he headed for the door. He slipped out the back and headed for the tree line, tapping a message to the team to let them know he would be at the rendevous point ten miles away in a little over an hour. Nat's answering text told him that she had been waiting for his message and was probably already there. He looked back twice at Sharon standing in the doorway, waving to him. He waved back, and then, with a noticeable pain in his chest, turned and forced himself to go and not look back. Sharon closed the door softly and forced herself not to sink to the floor and cry. She had no idea when the bugs would come back online, so she would have to assume they already were. She couldn't give any indication that he had been here. She forced down the new wave of loneliness by obsessively going over every part of the house Steve had been in and making sure no trace of him was left behind. Then she went down to the basement and attacked the heavy back like it was a Hydra agent.

The family returned two days later, full of tans and excited stories to tell. Sharon was waiting for them on the porch when the airport shuttle dropped them off and found herself smiling a true smile for the first time in days as they came running up talking loudly, giving her hugs and wanting to show her what they had brought back. Nancy had gotten her a beautiful sarong with promises that they would hit the pool as soon as the ankle bracelet came off. Craig showed her the huge bottle of Caribbean rum he had brought back and Sharon wondered what drinking the entire bottle might do to her. For the first day or so, the family was getting settled back into being home and getting into a summer routine, but it was Nancy who noticed that Sharon was more subdued than normal. But when she asked, Sharon only insisted that she had just been lonely with them gone, was glad to have them back, and that maybe she needed to volunteer to take over the record keeping for Isaac's Cub Scout troop that Nancy had volunteered for and still hadn't sorted out yet, in order to take her mind off things. Nancy stopped asking after that, but Sharon occasionally caught her looking at her with worry. Sharon kept up with Steve as promised over the app on her watch, though they kept communications short and only during the day when Steve could bring down the bugs long enough for them to talk. It helped ease the pain of being apart. 

Then, a few weeks later, after having just gotten a text message from Steve saying he was going to look for Wanda as she hadn't checked in from her visit with Vision, Sharon was down in the basement dodging tennis balls being shot in her direction from a tennis ball launcher in the corner, when she heard Nancy scream. It was a heartrending sound, full of agony. Sharon felt her heart lurch in her chest as she ran up the stairs. She burst into the kitchen in enough time too take in the scene at the kitchen table. Two piles of ash were in the chairs where the boys sat, and Nancy's form was just disappearing into its own pile on her chair. Her eyes flew to her cousin, Craig. His look of shock told her everything. Something horrible was happening. And then, he too disappeared into a cloud of ash.

Sharon stood in the kitchen staring at the four piles on the chairs, too stunned to move, and wondering if she was next. When five minutes passed and she still stood in one piece, she sank to her knees. Her anguished cry was heard by no one.

TBC after A4


End file.
